


New Perspective

by GuileandGall



Series: Guardians in the Darkness [1]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Angst, Backstory, Friendship, Gen, Implied Relationships, Implied Torture, Language, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-18
Updated: 2013-11-18
Packaged: 2018-01-01 14:49:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 35,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1045197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuileandGall/pseuds/GuileandGall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newly minted N7 Lieutenant Nyx Shepard is given a solo assignment that tests her personal and professional limits by placing her in a situation her training could never prepare her for. Sent to the garden world of Anhur during a civil rebellion Shepard must embrace her cover and earn the trust of those she is there to try and help. Thankfully, she's not alone, though she didn't expect to be partnered up with her childhood best friend Calev "Caz" Zingel, who becomes her anchor in what becomes a stormy situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Calling

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prologue piece to a current WIP: First Watch of the Night, which is part of the Guardians in the Darkness Series. It was inspired by the information in the planet codex for Anhur in Mass Effect 2. Most of the characters in this piece are original characters (except Shepard and Anderson). The situation of the story is based on the Anhur codex information.
> 
> This piece is was written for the Mass Effect Big Bang Autumn 2013. You can find the masterpost here: http://mebigbang.livejournal.com/58022.html with links to the art masterpost by BioticBooty who did a stellar job. 
> 
> Acknowledgements: I want to offer much love and appreciation to xforeverquotex who beta-read this piece for me on top of also beta-ing FWN. You are awesome and I thank you soooooo much for taking on this beast of a piece so quickly and thoroughly.
> 
> Disclaimer: Mass Effect belongs to Bioware, I'm only playing with their universe. I do not own the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. I do it for the love of the game, the world, and the characters; and because they stuck with me long after I turned the game off (and back on, and off, ad infinitum).

**New Perspective, A Prologue of First Watch of the Night**

**Chapter 1: A Calling**

****

  
******i.** ** **

* * *

Lieutenant Nyx Shepard preferred it when she arrived on Arcturus Station deep in the night cycle of the human deep space outpost. She knew she'd go unnoticed for a few hours, at the least. The officer slid a hand through her hair; she'd had it trimmed up during the transport and it didn't look quite as unruly as it did when she'd left Anhur a few weeks earlier. But the short pixie style cut was still very different from the longer way she'd preferred to wear her hair most of her life.

Tentatively she accessed the panel near the door, punching in her code and pressing her left hand to the interface so that it could read both her handprint and the identification chip in her omnitool at the same time. It surprised the officer that her access to the door still worked; the satisfaction of seeing the console glow green made her feel a little lighter. She stepped into the darkened room. As the door closed behind her, a sense of relief washed over her and she felt like she was coming home, even though this wasn't the type of place most people could consider home. Her team's headquarters were located in the lower docks. It was also the place this thing had all started.

The room was quiet and dark, empty, like it had been the afternoon Captain David Anderson had come to see her nearly a year before. Shaking her head clear she dropped her gear on the conference table and crossed to a small control panel in the corner. The window was little more than a maintenance porthole but it didn't matter to her, it was a view-a view that had always fascinated and inspired Nyx.

A year ago if someone would have asked Lieutenant Shepard about the garden world of Anhur in the Amun system of the Eagle Nebula, she'd likely have shrugged and told them to watch a news vid. At that point she knew what most other humans knew. The human-batarian colony on a resource rich world was in the throes of a civil rebellion over the government's reversal of the minimum wage on the planet, which had resulted in a state that quickly boiled down to slavery. A state that suited the corporate interests and the corrupt politicians they funded just fine; the colonists had other ideas, well, some of them. What surprised most of the galaxy was that some of the populace, and not just the batarians, didn't see an issue with it, though most pundits suggested that was because the supporters were not being forced into the positions that paid next to nothing and stole the livelihood and dignity of common inhabitants.

Leaning away from the window, the officer rubbed at the back of her neck, as she stretched it from side to side. Falling asleep on transports always left her a little sore. She looked over at the desk. She'd been gone for a year and held no illusions that this was still  _her_  team, or her office. After six months of temporary duty, any officer with half a brain would have put in to have that position made permanent. Her access to the room did at least suggest she might still have a spot on the team.

Even though this didn't quite feel like her office any longer. Shepard sat back in the chair at her old desk and stared out the window. When she started to lean back the sheathe poked at her thigh and she unstrapped it, laying it on the desk as she propped her feet up on the corner of the same. Scanning the desk in the dim light, a picture frame confirmed her suspicions that this place was no longer hers to claim. The photos in the little decorative silver frame flashed by: dark haired men and women with big smiles, a silver-haired couple laughing on a bench beneath the Eiffel Tower, and an officer in his blues being saluted by a boy she presumed was his son since they had the same dark hair. The smile curving her lips was slight, but she turned from the scenes of fluffy family life to the dark openness out her little window, for her that was more comfortable, that was what she knew and understood. That inky sea was where she'd come from, where'd she'd grown up, and was the place that she lived her life.

People always joked with her that growing up in space, on ships and stations, had skewed her priorities. But she'd never really believed that. Her life and her outlook were just different, no better or worse, just hers. But there were times, events, people, and places that made her question that assumption. She had grown up in the service. Living on ships and in military family housing on stations since she was five, Shepard literally grew up in the Alliance, among officers and enlisted men. Her childhood was spent in a state precarious place, not yet Alliance and not quite a civilian.

Her childhood prepped her for the rest of her life. Prepared her for the life of service she would eventually embark on. From a young age, Nyx was a consummate operator. The mission was tantamount, even in her personal life the mission-her career-had always come first. She knew that attention to one's responsibilities was necessary for things to run smoothly. She had learned that on ships, everyone had their place, their job, their contribution. Not doing so could be dangerous, put people in danger.

There had been no family photos on the desk in the darkened room when it had belonged to her. The few family photos she had were from childhood and of her parents-Hannah and Taranis Shepard-and grandparents, a few with her childhood best friends, Lin and Caz. But those were private, she kept them to herself. She had no children of her own, she wasn't even sure if she wanted that type of life. Her last relationship had ended in the same ultimatum as the others-a man or the Alliance. And the man that asked it had known the answer before he put the question to her.

Her childhood, her family, and her life had always been in constant motion. She was born on an Alliance dreadnought, several weeks early, because her mother claimed Nyx wouldn't abide being still. She was two weeks old the first time her body had felt the effects of a mass relay jump. Her first view was of the light pierced darkness of space. Shepard didn't do still; she didn't want still. For her there was always a job to do, always something looming on the horizon-for her that was what space and life were, a never ending horizon leading to the next great adventure.

Her blue eyes moved from the view of the vast unknown beyond the window to the photo of the little boy proudly saluting an officer. A tightness seemed to creep over her shoulders as she looked at it. She wasn't sure if it was merely residual tension from an awkward shuttle nap or something else. Her gaze returned to wide open space that usually brought her solace.

The movement of her fingers was easy, smooth, and so familiar that she hadn't realized she was doing it. At some point while mentally marking the distance between stars out her window, Shepard had begun twirling the knife in her fingers. Her comfort with blades and knives of many forms disquieted some of the people she knew, and had from a tender age when her grandfather passed an heirloom down to the girl who swore she'd grow up to be a marine like him. But the one in her hands was not her grandfather's knife.

She stilled it, leaning forward and tipping the blade toward the faint light. The precise and delicate etching was barely visible in the low light, but she didn't need to see the scene on the blade to know it. It was a ritual athame, the zigzag blade held a scene from Ra'mahniit lore, the Great Father wielding a blade forged from the body and soul of his lover Akha as he put down the warlords that threatened the Anhurri ancestors and the health of the land. She knew the detail almost as well as she knew the story now. And here she sat where it all started.

 

 

**ii.**

* * *

 

The alphabet soup of numbers and letters assigned to bulkheads and portals on an Alliance ship or space station could be dizzying, thankfully Captain David Anderson didn't need to know how to read them in order to find the nondescript hatch he was looking for. Docking bay bulkhead D-23-B9-A7 was on the lower decks, it was one of the darker and dirtier arrivals that Arcturus Station had. There wasn't a lot of ship traffic coming in to this area of the docks, and even fewer people, which was one of the reasons the commanding officer of Special Operations Team, Arcturus Seven chose the location.

Arcturus Seven, known as A7, was a successful prototype. The team had been proposed by Lieutenant Shepard who had been assigned as its officer in charge. A7 was a specialized strike team of veteran operators who had the skills, experience, and knowledge to handle assignments that required a great deal of finesse. The team was one segment of the larger Arcturus Special Warfare group, but handled high priority and higher risk missions. Under Shepard's design and leadership it had proven extremely successful, but that fact hadn't surprised Anderson like it had some of the people that lobbied against the program.

Gaining admittance from the security panel, the captain stepped through the hatch into a tightly buttoned-down space. He had expected her to notice him, instead she was speaking calmly while reclined in her chair with her boots propped on the corner of her desk. The black bladed knife spun elegantly between her nimble fingers. The slightest amber shimmer beyond the perimeter of the desk explained the silence and why she hadn't noticed his presence. Her "office" was segregated by the rest of the room by a sheer electronic privacy curtain. He'd only seen them in the offices of high ranking officers and in Alliance intelligence offices.

Anderson crossed his arms and waited, leaning against the head of the conference table that lay in the middle of the room. Judging from the scuffs and stains, that table saw more than just briefings. The walls were stark, standard issue gray bulkheads, except the wall beside the door. The mural was expansive; he wondered how it had been authorized and who had done it. But the simple design suggested it might have been one of her team or Shepard herself. It was minimalist to be sure: the large block print A with a thick red 7 superimposed on it was ringed by ten blue stars. There were six pairs of dog tags attached to the wall in little gold stars of their own. Anderson didn't need to read the names to know who those tags belonged to.

Off to the side hung the photo that still made him laugh-two SpecOps units, human and turian, standing in the Citadel docks. The matting that surrounded the picture held one tag of the pair that each soldier in the photo wore. Rumor had it there was a similar token hanging in a turian team load out on Palavan's moon, Menae. There were scribbles in various human and alien languages on the walls: sayings, proverbs, comments, maybe even some names of those who'd only passed through and not stayed in the team for any length of time.

The shimmering sound called his attention from the memorial wall. "Captain Anderson," she said with no trace of the formality such a meeting would hold for most officers. "What brings you slumming?"

He laughed warmly as she crossed to him. He shook the outstretched hand and pulled the woman he'd known since she was a girl into a hug. "You look good, Lieutenant. Looks like Command's not keeping you too busy."

Shepard shrugged and led him back to the desk. "Busy enough. Gave my guys twenty-four. I am rather hoping nothing comes in between now and then."

"How long were you guys out this time?" he asked even though he knew the answer.

Her eyes went up and to the side for a moment as she tried to recall the last time she'd put boots on the station, then let out a long breath. "Maybe ten months." She winced slightly at the realization. "Didn't seem that long."

Anderson nodded. He did the math quickly. She'd been moving practically nonstop since Elysium. He knew in part that it was by her own choice as well as coming down from the top. In too many ways she was like her father, and like Anderson; she became the epitome.

"Never does when you're on everyone's speed dial. Sometimes you only realize how long it's been when your wife's lawyer calls."

She chuckled, it was a sound that made him happy; she seemed at ease and was taking everything around her in stride. His eyes met hers and he turned to look behind him and pointed to the ceiling, which prompted her to tap away at her omnitool. The shimmer and a slight hum told him the curtain was active.

"No rest for the wicked, huh?" she asked. "When do we put out?"

Anderson grabbed her hand before her fingers touched the 'tool interface to send out a recall message to her team. "It's not a call out. At least not for the whole team." Her blue eyes narrowed on him, such a tranquil color to be so keen. "This came in from the top. Intelligence needs an operator with… special skills. And you're it."

She took a long moment, her breathing slowed and her eyes moved over his face. "So what am I looking at?"

"You and one man. He's already undercover there, has been for more than a year. We have operatives in place, but you will not be in direct contact with them, though they can provide intel if need be. But they are not resources."

Her brow furrowed. "What the hell is that you want me to do then?"

"Infiltrate. Maintain cover. Earn their trust, then do what you can."

"Anderson?"

He leaned forward and looked at her. "This isn't an optional assignment, Lieutenant. And the specifics of the mission will change as the situation changes. They need a female, who doesn't look like a threat. Someone who can maintain cover and work alone if need be. You have extensive and varied combat skills. You are the ideal candidate for this mission, Shepard. It's a career maker." He watched her as she closed her eyes and shook her head. She was petite, blonde, and attractive, which meant too many people easily underestimated her. And as much as it irritated the capable operator, it was precisely what the Alliance needed in this assignment.

"Yeah, so was the Blitz," she replied with clear exasperation.

"Nyx," he said quietly and her eyes met his. She knew this was coming from a friend not a superior. "I've read the files. You know I wouldn't be the one here asking if it weren't squared away. There aren't a lot of people running around with your level of expertise. Your name was at the top of the list." She leaned forward and rested her forearms on the desk, giving him a look that told him what he already knew-Shepard was on board. "It's a bad spot," Anderson commented.

"It's always a bad spot if they are dialing me in," she said with a confident grin.

Anderson laughed. She wouldn't have said it to anyone else, but they had a history that made these types of conversations common place. They knew each other too well to stand on the formality of rank, except when the situation demanded it. "This opportunity fell unexpectedly into our laps and Intelligence wants it to happen now. It's a chance too good to pass up. I'll meet you at shuttle bay B-10, Level 5 in 2 hours. We're meeting a contact."

"Wow. Nothing like a little notice," she replied, standing as her omnitool lit to life. "What about my guys?"

"I called in a few favors. He's not you. But the Lieutenant's a powerful biotic, pistol scores through the roof. And he's seen some action. He'll keep your guys in shape until you get back."

"Anyone I know?" she asked, dropping the security field.

Anderson shook his head. "No. Not yet at least." With that Shepard crossed to her locker, but the captain shook his head. "No dice. Your load out has already been pulled. Special circumstances."

"Tell me I'm not going in raw?" Leaning on the locker, her blue eyes peeked at him over her arm.

"Completely."

"This just keeps getting better and better." She propped her boot up on the table and pulled out the knife she always carried there, her grandfather's, placing it and the sheath back in the locker before she sealed it. "Do I have to travel in civvies?" Anderson nodded. "Well, I'll meet you at the shuttle in eighty."

When they exited the A7's facility, she sprinted off toward the station proper, while Anderson took his time. He couldn't help but smile as he watched her, it reminded him of when she was younger. Her father, Taranis Shepard, began his career as a combat medic-deadly shot and a combat Florence Nightingale. He'd stitched Anderson up more times than David could remember, and saved the captain's life more than once.

Then Taranis Shepard's priorities shifted when Nyx turned five. He took non-combat ship postings so his daughter could have at least one parent around as much as possible. A few times, David's and Taranis' paths crossed again and even from an early age David was impressed and in awe of the younger Shepard. She was deliberate and driven even as child. As she ducked out of the bay his chest tightened. This wasn't a mission he wanted to send any soldier on, least of all his friend and the daughter of a man who'd saved his life a handful of times. He hated that it had to be her.

 

 

  
******iii.** ** **

* * *

The dust in the sky diffused the sunlight, producing a reddish haze that did little more than make the planet feel hotter than it really was. Captain David Anderson stood in the wide window and looked at the swirling little dust storms that stirred up in the constant winds that buffered the planet's surface. One saving grace of Intai'sei was that there weren't a lot of prying eyes. The small prefab was the only structure for miles in any direction.

Sipping his coffee he leaned on the glass observing, there was very little difference in their appearances, in fact he'd be hard pressed to pick out the woman he'd known most of her life from that distance. They wore the same clothing; the garb of an Anhurri priestess. The Lieutenant's clean shaven head no longer gleamed, due in equal parts to the sun and the dust, he knew. As their bodies moved in identical flowing movements, the natural fabrics flowed around them occasionally whipped and billowed by the erratic breezes. It was an entrancing and relaxing sight mainly because of the fluid movements that glided smoothly from one to the next.

Shepard didn't stand in contrast to the holy woman now, they looked alike, dressed alike, moved alike. The lieutenant had fully embraced the mold she was being squeezed into for this assignment. This was not the role the Alliance had hoped to place one of its officer's in, but he knew that they had to get someone else situated in a position of influence in an Anhurri temple.

The temple chosen was located in the center of a large metropolitan area where the mercenary force of the Na'Hesit were headquartered. The Ra'mahniit were a surprisingly neutral force, the religious faction had access to both sides, while tending to the spiritual needs of the faithful and physical woes of the wounded. The Sisters of Nebu Xa'Afeef were in a unique position to gather and disseminate information. Shepard's mirror was a holy novice of the Anhurri faith and the child of an enlisted man who'd retired on Anhur; she was also an asset. She'd fed the rebels and the Alliance intelligence on the situation on the ground and now her pilgrimage, which should have been spent in temples throughout the Amun System communing with her gods, was repurposed to turn an Alliance operative into a Sister of the Ra'mahniit, a speaker and hand of the Great Father of Anhur.

Their laughter was melodic and carried on the wind as they stopped for the afternoon. "You are doing quite well, Dovekie. I think you will seem a truer sister than even I," the young woman who had taken the name Meadowlark offered, nudging the other woman's shoulder.

"I don't know," the lieutenant stopped and looked toward the darkening sky.

"You still doubt yourself."

Lieutenant Nyx Shepard was not a creature of doubt, though she might not always know the right course of action she could usually find it. But something about this felt off. She had never been religious and now she was being asked to infiltrate a religious order and convincingly portray a spiritual guide. She shook her head, staring at the first few twinkling stars to come into view as the night chased the sun toward the other horizon.

"I know you may not cling to my beliefs," Meadowlark said. "But you believe in doing the best you can. That is enough. That is something my people need as much as they need me to remember the prayers."

The officer shrugged. The priestess had been teaching her, guiding her, and making her the outward personification of a sister, but Shepard wasn't sure this was an assignment she could or wanted to complete. Pretending to be a mercenary with a psychotic streak or a twitchy red sand addict on Illium was one thing, but this was on a whole other scale. She didn't necessarily believe in a hell beyond the heat of combat, but if there was one she figured this mission would secure her reservations for a table with a view.

"Sister," Anderson said solemnly as they entered. The novice bowed at him, never meeting his gaze, another thing Shepard was still working on. The operative preferred looking people in the eyes when she spoke with them. "Shepard," he said as they both watched the other woman enter a back room. "We got word. Your pilgrimage is about to be cut short."

"And the sister?"

"She's going with you."

Shepard looked at him sharply. "Meadowlark is not an operator."

The idea of placing the other woman in a spot to lose more than her life tried Nyx's sense of morality. She wasn't naïve enough to think that she wouldn't end up putting civilians at risk at some point, but to risk this woman's calling was something that chipped away at the officer's very core.

"No, but she has the connections. She can back you up, and I don't mean in the field," he added holding up his hand when he saw her about to object. "Without her you're just an outsider. We need her to ingratiate you."

Shepard set her hands on her hips and looked past him out the window.

"Don't worry, we have a man in place. He's been there since the start and has the clout to make you look more bonafide. And he'll make sure we don't have to place any other members of the Ra'mahniit order at risk," Anderson added.

"This is going to end badly," she hissed.

"It's already going badly. Our people are just hoping you can stem off some of the loss," he replied sharply in whispered tones. Her eyes shot to his and the two reached a silent understanding. He implored her as she resisted initially. But he knew she'd relent. She was a soldier through and through. Shepard would follow orders, and she would get the job done. They both knew it, even if she let her displeasure about the situation be known.


	2. Claiming a New Identity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lieutenant Nyx Shepard's journey to Anhur continues as she sheds the last remnants of her own identity in an effort to fully embody her mission cover.

**New Perspective, A Prologue of First Watch of the Night**

**Chapter 2: Claiming a New Identity**

  
**i** **.**

* * *

 

Meadowlark understood ritual, even if she didn't know the exact meanings of the one she was witnessing. The soldier had truly become a woman of the Ra'mahniit, if not in letter then at least in spirit; she was a protector and Meadowlark knew that was something that was desperately needed on her home planet. She had not grown up in the Alliance, she had been raised on Anhur, among its forests and deserts, jungles and oases. The priestess couldn't help but smile at the merest thought of her home. That is why she had approached the Alliance and sided with the abolitionists. She'd seen the pain and death and disenfranchisement of the workers after the repeal. It had to end and as a hand of the Great Father it was her place to do all she could to keep the people of Anhur and the land safe.

Her icy blue ices moved over the woman she refused to call anything but Dovekie, the name the lieutenant would be known by once they left this place. Meadowlark had faith in her because she'd seen the officer's belief and dedication first hand. Now she watched her as the signs of the soldier were removed in pieces. There seemed to be a struggle in Dovekie's eyes as she gripped the tags on a chain around her neck tightly.

The sister understood the pain she saw. That marker identified her not only by her name, but as a soldier-in their time together Meadowlark had become keenly aware that the lieutenant had defined herself by that marker for much of her life. This was the path she had known she was destined to follow. It was the goal she dedicated her life to wholly. And now she was breaking contact with that thing that was most vital to her concept of self. It was heart wrenching and spectacular all at once to witness.

With the last shred of the soldier stripped from her person, Dovekie seemed to undergo a change. Her clear sapphire eyes softened and she delicately donned the final layer of a Ra'mahniiti Sister's garb. The flowing robe was left open and loose to reveal the vibrant red sash that secured the under robe then the officer reached up and set her hood perfectly: low enough to shield the eyes from direct view, but with enough clearance that she could see her path. Her hands met at her waist and disappeared beneath the naturally pale gray wool.

Meadowlark smiled warmly and crossed to her, holding the other woman's shoulders loosely. "Sister. It is time."

"Certainly. Lead on."

The priestess' smile grew wider with the other woman's acceptance of her role and her place in the hierarchy. As the more senior of the two, Meadowlark was destined to always walk a step ahead of Dovekie, and it gave the holy woman hope that this sacrifice she was making for her people and her home might actually pay off.

The captain did not accompany them though he did say his goodbyes and offer them both luck. Meadowlark was struck by the additional salutation he offered his subordinate. "Good hunting, Shepard," he'd said looking down at her with great care and consideration in his gaze. It was yet one more sign of what this young officer was giving up and putting at risk for a place and a people not her own. Meadowlark swallowed the emotion rising in her throat and had hurried away from the exchange.

The journey from Intai'sei was slow and arduous, but the two women kept counsel with one another, though there were times when Dovekie's solitary nature got the better of her. There were several occasions when Meadowlark would find the woman who was fast becoming someone she would consider a friend in a lower observation deck that many people avoided because of its location so near the engineering quarters of the ship. There they would sit in silent contemplation of the stars or in quiet conversation. A few times as she knew their trip was coming to a close Meadowlark would utter comforting prayers in a soft voice. And in those moments, her connection to Dovekie was strengthened when the soldier would join the sister in the recitations.

 

 

**ii.**

* * *

 

Nyx knew her job. She knew the expectation being placed on her, and there was no room for mistakes in this. The trip had allowed the soldier extra time to prepare. It was one of the times in her life she was glad she was a quick reader, and ecstatic that she had what humans often mistakenly called a photographic or eidetic memory. It was less automatic than that term made it sound. Shepard actually worked at it, especially in times like this.

Ra'mahniiti Sisters spent years learning and memorizing the various prayers of their faith. These women were trained for this position from the time of their first cycle, to be the speakers of the gods. So much about their lives, their behavior, their interactions, even their clothing was prescribed by the order. The undergarments were real raw linen, as were the leggings. The skirt, under robe, and tunic were undyed cotton with a slight tint; these were tied with a flax sash, dyed scarlet by madder. The over robe was a natural wool garment, whose color was a faint grey the same color as the breed of goats whose hair it was woven from. The entire garb was loose and flowing, highly feminine while also veiling the dominant characteristics of a woman's body.

The uniform had proven easier to master than the recitations. Shepard had been expected to learn and know at least a cross section of the litanies and prayers in a matter of six weeks. And rote memorization, as primitive a technique as it was deemed by many to be, was the most effective way for her to accomplish that. Though she learned the interpretations of the religious book the Tahrirakh, from Meadowlark, Shepard had been left on her own to study the full text. Her saving grace had been the way the book was written.

To a career soldier, it was reminiscent of the Alliance's field manuals and uniform regulations. There were sections that veered into the philosophical text she was used to from religious writings, but a fair amount of the text read like guidelines and matters of protocol. The officer somewhat rightly assumed that was due in part to her own vocation, realizing that perhaps someone who hadn't spent their life subject to the regimented style of military life might see the Tahrirakh very differently than another with a dissimilar upbringing.

Shepard had been skimming the holy book again as the shuttle started its descent to Anhur. With the buffeting of the atmosphere, the officer found it more difficult to read and abandoned the activity in favor of taking in the aerial view of New Thebes. The city was striking, a sprawling Mecca spiraling out from a large sandstone-colored structure in the center. From maps and briefings Nyx knew this to be Nebu Xa'Afeef, a dominant temple in the Ra'mahniit sect, it was dedicated to the chaste and modest goddesses who had served the Great Father faithfully before eventually becoming his wives or lovers.

It was a striking marvel of architectural beauty, combining modern techniques with ancient Egyptian aesthetics. The temple was surrounded by a lush lawn on all four sides of the step-pyramidal shape. It was segregated from the city by a wide canal with only two passages across on the cardinal north and south sides of the structure. Following the naturalistic beliefs and the movement Anhur took around Amun's central star, she knew they would be entering on the south side, the direction of sunrise on Anhur.

Thankful for the seemingly uneventful arrival the two women stepped off the shuttle, leaving their belongings behind for the shuttle steward to attend to. It was not an act of superiority, so much as one of religious necessity, as the hands of a holy woman of the Ra'mahniit were thought to be endowed with the power and blessings of the gods. This was one of several aspects the lieutenant found herself most uncomfortable with. And as they reached the end of the docks it became infinitely more complicated.

The sisters approached a group of six men. Two wore robes similar to the women, though no hoods and the sleeves of their robes stopped at their elbows, allowing the tight longer sleeves of the under robe to be seen. Both knelt as the women approached. Meadowlark touched the nearly bare head of the man at her feet and he rose smiling in response. Shepard's greeting was not so relaxed. The sister had warned her of the display that would be necessary when they landed.

Sister Dovekie, as Lieutenant Shepard would be known on Anhur, was not of the Nebu Xa'Afeef she would be assigned both an ardent and a guardian from the New Thebes temple. Nyx tried not to let her nerves get the better of her as she freed one hand from the voluminous sleeve of her robe and placed it on the crown of the kneeling young man's head. His shortly cropped ebony hair teased her palm as she whispered the correct blessing.

Novice Pheidole declared himself her ardent and rose. She could see his proud smile as he passed her to collect the bag that had been brought forth by the steward. A Ra'mahniit Ardent was tasked with handling the menial tasks for a sister; he would be her constant companion, her hands, her shadow. It concerned the soldier that she was to serve as a spiritual guide for this young man-a non-believer leading him toward enlightenment in his faith. The weight of that was not lost on her; he was a test and a vital part of her cover. If any would know her not to be who she claimed, it would be him. The Lieutenant found herself thankful for the selective muteness of Anhurri Sisters; a characteristic she felt she would exhibit more often than not on this assignment.

The armed men who had stood behind the ardents were the epitome that each male novice strived to reach, they were Guardians, protectors of the faith. And even among their brethren, these guardians were revered, for they were tasked with the protection of the most sacred of artifacts among the Ra'mahniiti-their most treasured Sisters. Meadowlark handled the blessing of the guardians, though Shepard knew that she would not be free from participation in this display. Each sister had a dedicated Guardian. And as hers knelt at her feet, Nyx performed the duty expected of her and accepted his service and sacrifice.

The octet made their way through New Thebes unaccosted, though they were observed by many. It was not typical to see so large a group of religious representatives traveling outside of the prescribed routes used to move from the main temple to the various religious sites in the region. For this reason, they drew a crowd which likely kept the Na'hesit faction at bay for that moment.

Shepard was installed in a cell that adjoined Meadowlark's, it was typical for younger sisters in the order, and those without children to share space. The ardents and guardians shared the large common room, each man being granted his own relatively private personal area, segregated by screens, while each woman boasted a sizeable suite of their own.

Pheidole emptied her bag quickly, then excused himself. With a glance over her shoulder, Shepard noticed Meadowlark's guardian enter her chambers, witnessing a warm embrace and fevered kiss between the two before Andren, her sister's ardent closed the door. Then her own chamber doors closed behind her. Though she knew there was a tradition of guardians sharing the beds of the sisters that was one step the operative was not planning to take in fulfillment of her mission.

"Sister Dovekie."

It was the first time her Guardian spoken since they met at the shuttle port, and there was something about his voice that felt familiar.

He was standing in front of her, hands at his sides when he asked, "May I?"

She cursed the way the sister's wore their hoods, she needed to know who it was. She needed to know if it was the man she thought it was.

Brother Caracal, as he had been introduced to her, by Meadowlark's guardian, Serval, raised his hands and slipped her hood back slowly. She cautiously raised her eyes and couldn't help but smile when she saw him grinning down at her. "May I be the first to gladly welcome you to Anhur, Sister Dovekie." Her smile widened, then he whispered, "Nice look," as he touched her smooth head and pulled her into a tight hug.

"Caz, what the hell are you doing here?" she asked quietly, as she embraced him.

Calev Zingel was the only boy she'd known growing up who hadn't been a complete jerk to her. But the other kids on ship picked on him as much as her, because he was gangly and smart as hell. She leaned back and looked into the familiar eyes she hadn't seen in too many years.

"Like you, I sometimes get invited to all the best fights." He leaned his forehead against hers then his smile faded. A signal that the reunion was over, now it was time to get down to business.

He loosed her and led her to the sitting area away from the door and spoke in hushed tones. "The situation is bad here. They need people who aren't afraid to take a chance. I've been here since just after the fighting broke out. It's getting bad, Sister."

Her friend was trying to regain his cover after a momentary hitch. Only a brother of his station could demonstrate the type of familiarity with a sister he had in unhooding her and only one of his station would be allowed to be completely alone with her. Her safety was his utmost concern, as her friend, and as the devout holy man the people of the temple thought he was.

"Move slowly. Observe for a while. Do not demonstrate your prowess too soon, they will know soon enough. You will have cause. The Na'hesit have been pressing harder at the temple of late, seeing it as a threat," Caz advised.

"What do you know?"

"Merely whispers," Calev Zingel, known as Brother Caracal among the Anhurri, replied.

Shepard nodded. "You have something of mine, Brother?" she asked holding her hands out side-by-side in a ceremonial fashion, though the glint in her eye was anything but holy.

His old friend offered him another sly smile, this one much more familiar. Calev knew her affinity for and skill with a blade. He calculated a high probability that the ceremonial dagger he presented her with would taste blood. The knives of most Ra'mahniiti priests were used as ritual items, rarely cutting more than seeping vines and the occasional sapling. As he moved to sit beside her and placed the dagger dedicated to Akha in her hands, he knew it would be used for more than inspiring religious fervor in believers.

"I happily grant what is yours Sister Dovekie, with blessing and praise to the Great Father. It has been my pleasure to serve as its guardian, Little Sister. And yours," he added. Her eyes narrowed on him. "As is my calling."

Shepard nodded and Caz stood offering her his hand. "Make yourself known in the temple. Attend the wounded, speak with the faithful that attend services here. Once you are known here, it will be easier to move beyond the confines of the temple." She nodded and shifted awkwardly. Her old friend smiled at her then leaned down to kiss her cheek. "You will eventually get used to the thin soled boots, I promise."

The two moved toward the door and as he placed his hand on the knob he looked back at her. "Your hood."

She resituated the covering, considering all he'd told her. Calev had touched on a point the Shepard had taken careful note of in the briefing. This civil war was not race based. There were humans and batarians on both sides of the slavery line, which made the situation even more complicated and meant that the enemy was not clearly defined by the number of eyes in their skull.

The sister quickly looped the dagger's sheath around the belt at her waist. The elegantly crafted athame bore a blade delicately etched with a mythological scene in which the Great Father is depicted wielding the Great Saif against a mass of attackers. The Saif in the Anhurri faith is a legendary blade which was crafted for the diety by his mistress Akha. The guard and hilt were carved with vines and leaves. Despite its ceremonial use, the blade was at least as sharp as any of the knives she usually carried.

When he pulled open the doors, Pheidole was standing patiently to be allowed access to his charge. He bowed his head slightly at the passing guardian before entering the room and placing a brimming bowl of various fruits on the table. "I was uncertain as to your tastes, Sister Dovekie." His nervousness was endearing and despite her discomfort about his position, he seemed a decent fellow.

Shepard smiled at him as she pointed to a deep purple plum sitting directly atop the carefully constructed pyramid of fruit in the bowl, which caused the ardent to smile widely as he grabbed it and cut it in half, carefully removing the pit before he offered it to her. Caz winked at her with a little smile curving his lips. He seemed to be taking great pleasure at seeing his childhood friend wholly out of her element.

 

 

**iii.**

* * *

 

The giggle made her grin reflexively, and the tight one-armed squeeze made her heart ache. The girl blinked at the soldier-playing-priest seated on the floor and smiled. To some the smile of a batarian might be a thing to inspire distress, but despite the thin needle like teeth, Shepard could only see the joy in the young one's gentle grin. Janya's eyes were bright and clear, finally, the pain seemed to have subsided at least for the moment.

"Will you come back and read it again?" Janya asked, four eyes blinking in tandem, expectation in her voice and on her young face.

"Of course," Shepard replied with a wistful smile.

This was one of the reasons she fought. Even someone as experienced as she could not watch that batarian child, one arm hanging limp and unusable from having been crushed beneath a Na'hesit soldier's boot, without feeling the effect this conflict was having on the people. It just made her more irritated about the fact that she was still virtually being held captive in the temple. It frustrated her to be so dormant; Shepard felt useless-it was a sensation she was neither used to or comfortable with.

Caz moved toward her, kneeling beside where she sat. "Give it time."

"These people don't have time," she bit back in a sharp whisper.

He looked at her closely, leaning toward her to ensure no one could accidentally overhear. "Listen to me, Nyx."

The use of her real name made her tense up and he knew he had her full attention. He leaned back slightly so he could see her eyes. "I've been doing this type of work a long time. This is the hardest part. They have to trust you, or they'll view you with suspicion. Anything you do will just fail and probably make things worse." She looked away from him, but his fingers on her chin brought her eyes back to his. "This is not your usual type of mission. It's mine. Trust me. We're close."

The doors burst open and several guardians were dragging a gravely injured man into the room. "There," Shepard ordered, pointing to the corner. She wasn't a medic, but all N7s had extensive training in both human and alien anatomy and physiology; in a pinch they were expected to be able to treat teammates, assets, and civilians of any possible familiar species.

After they placed the batarian on the table she ordered one of the other guardians to fetch one of the doctors. "Sister, you must not," the injured man argued as she threw off the voluminous robe which would only make it more difficult for her to assist.

"Hush, now, Guardian. As you are called to protect our persons, are we, your sisters, not also called upon to keep you?" Shepard said soothingly.

Caz stared at her as she placed her hands on the wounded man. He hadn't expected his old friend to sound quite so much like a Sister. While one hand pressed the cloth in her hands against the wound in his abdomen, the other rested gently on the man's forehead.

"I know it is not our way," she said in a hushed comforting tone that had all the guardians mesmerized, "but as I recite this litany. I need you keep your eyes on mine."

"I… I…"

"Dear Guardian." She hated arguing with this injured man but she needed him to remain conscious until the doctor could be brought from the other side of the temple where the injured were usually received. Judging from the severity of his injuries that was the reason the other guardians broke tradition and brought him into the temple through the northern entrance.

"Sister," Caz interrupted, knowing the reason behind the request. "Perhaps you could concede to allow my brother look at me as you pray. I'll help him stay awake."

The batarian started to thank him, but Shepard shushed him peacefully. "Thank you Brother Caracal."

Two of the three guardians that had brought the bleeding man back to the temple knelt and submitted themselves as was proper when a sister performed such a recitation. Caz held the batarian's hand tightly, his fingers placed strategically on the wrist to measure the man's pulse. Shepard struggled to keep her voice even as she pressed against the wound forcefully to stem any further loss of blood, hoping it might be enough to get him through the few minutes it would take the doctor to cross the compound.

The footfalls were a welcome addition to the prayer. Judging by the sound the guardian had brought more than enough medical staff. "Pardon me Brother," the salarian greeted deferentially as he slipped between Caz and the injured man. He froze for a moment, when he noticed Shepard. "Sister Dovekie?"

The small gesture she made with her chin toward the man on the table, redirected the newcomer. "He has lost a great deal of blood. I tried to stem any further loss."

A batarian nurse moved to Shepard's side, waiting for the sister to remove her hands from the compress. Though she knew she shouldn't, she also knew, no one in that room would dare touch her hands, even if it meant the guardian's life. "Quickly," Shepard ordered demurely, the nurse nodded and held her hands in a way to avoid the human's touch, even accidentally. Once the medics had taken over his care, Shepard leaned toward the batarian and whispered something to him before she allowed Caz to guide her from the room.

When they turned the corner the sound of fast approaching footfalls turned her attention from the batarian whose blood was soaking through the cotton of her remaining clothing. Pheidole looked panicked as he rushed toward her. Caz held his hand out to the young man who was stripping off his robe midstride but as he reached them the ardent fell to the ground, prostrating himself at her feet. Initially thinking he fell, she stopped to help him, but Caz shook his head, reminding her of her place.

The voice was muffled and strikingly pained, "My apologies are not enough to dismiss my shame at having failed you so entirely, my most treasured Sister."

The guardian set the ardent's removed robe over the sister's shoulders then grabbed the boy by the arm and lifted him to his feet. Shepard couldn't understand precisely what he meant. "Pheidole," her voice was calm and smooth, as she tried to impart an understanding that she did not see the need for his behavior. "Raise your gaze, please, Ardent."

He would not look at her at first, but once she requested it specifically she knew he would do it, while others would specifically avert their gaze a sister's concordant, her guardian and ardent, and other priestesses could look a sister in the eye, though it was still only done rarely.

"Do tell me what you are talking about?" Shepard queried.

He brought his hands to his chest, then, rethinking, offered them toward her. "I am meant to be your hands. You are the intercessor of the father. Your hands are sacred, meant to commune with and transmit the blessings of the gods. Menial tasks…"

Her upheld hand stopped him. There were so many things about the Ra'mahniit that tried her patience, this was merely one. She closed her eyes for a moment as she took a calming breath trying to remember her cover and formulate the correct response. "Menial tasks, yes. Do tell me how many high impact trauma wounds have you tended?"

He furrowed his brow at her. "I was not trained…"

"Precisely, but I was.  _I_ have the skills to help that guardian. Even if you had been here it would have still been my hands on his wounds. Now, please Pheidole, there is no transgression to forgive, but you are absolved of any you might perceive." He looked like he was going to protest, but Caz squeezed his shoulder slightly, shaking his head when the ardent's eyes met his. "Come. I believe remaining in the corridors looking this way will distress the parishioners."

The two men fell into step with her, the guardian at her right and Pheidole a few steps behind her. Shepard pulled the young man's robe tight around her in an attempt to cover the blood-soaked cotton of her tunic and skirts. Even so, the blood on her hands did not go unnoticed by many in the temple, both of the order and of the faithful. Despite the absence of her hood, she still walked with her head slightly bowed as if her bare head were covered. When they finally reached their quarters, she let out a sigh of relief feeling like she'd just made the longest walk of her life. With the way people were looking at her she was uncertain if she might have just broken her cover.

 

 

**iv.**

* * *

 

The fear that she had damaged her adopted persona by helping the wounded guardian was assuaged a few days later, when Shepard and Meadowlark were sitting in the upper courtyard surrounded by children listening raptly to one of the stories of the Great Father's bounty. When many of the faces turned away from the reading priestesses, both women turned and stood.

"Sisters," Caz offered with a little bow of his head. He and Meadowlark's guardian, Serval, were supporting the batarian guardian Shepard had tended days earlier. "Our Brother Sunbear seeks an audience."

"Certainly Brother Caracal," Meadowlark replied, slipping her arm around Shepard's and guiding her to the edge of the lawn.

Caz and Serval moved slowly and gingerly, helping their injured associate into a kneeling position, and joining him in his subservient posture. Sunbear had thanked her, reaching forth and gripping the hem of her under robe, a very intimate gesture. He raised it to his face gently. "I am in your debt, Sister Dovekie. If you had not intervened, my soul would stand with our revered brothers in the Father's army." His kissed the hem and held it to his lips.

Shepard did not know how to respond. This was not something she'd been expecting or taught how to reply to. Thankfully Meadowlark had been at her side. "Dear Guardian, I fear your sentiment overwhelms our trusted sister. Rise. You need rest to recover your strength. Then we can speak of promises and service."

After the encounter they allowed an elder sister to attend to the completion of the children's lesson, the two of them walked silently back to the privacy of their rooms, where Meadowlark guided Shepard to the novice's own chambers and sealed the door behind them. They sat in the plush pillows near a window that looked out on the Cliffs of Amun. The priestess stared at the soldier for several minutes before she finally spoke.

"I heard the doctors speaking this morning. Without your intervention Sunbear would have perished. Your actions have sisters and the faithful alike whispering your name," Meadowlark announced.

"That was not the intention."

Shepard bit her cheek in irritation when the other woman raised her hand to halt her reply. But she played the role she was meant to. "It was not a criticism. They respect your action. I think you have finally made the impression you were seeking to make. You are to join the services as the Altar of Moswen in two weeks time. You are to recite the Litany of the Light to open the Ritual of the Planting."

There was nothing for the operative to say. She stared at her fingertips, which were peeking out from beneath her sleeves. When Meadowlark stood, Nyx looked up at her. "Come Dovekie. I must check on Serval. He and Sunbear have ever been close. He has been taking his friend's injury to heart." As she exited the communal chamber, the priestess leaned against the door and glanced back at the other woman. "I will have Pheidole lay out the Litany for you."

Shepard nodded. She was crossing to her own chambers as the hand grabbed her upper arm. Her old friend looked down at her quite softly. "Sorry about springing that on you. I stopped into to check on him and he'd already convinced Serval to help him find you."

"No. It's fine."

"I didn't realize he was going to pledge himself to you."

Shepard's brow furrowed. And Caz continued, "Kissing your hem. He sought to pledge the life you saved to the service of your person, or so he told Serval." He shrugged weakly. "Not the first guy who wanted to thank you for saving his life."

She elbowed him in the ribs. "Ow," Caz replied playfully as he slipped his arm over her shoulders and squeezed her to him. "So what's got you all pensive?"

"I'm reading a litany at the second wife's altar in a few weeks it seems," she revealed and Caz nodded thoughtfully. "Problem is. I don't know the area," she noted with a telling glance up at him.

He loosed her shoulders and pressed his hands to his hips as he considered her for a moment. "All right, fine." Her smile wasn't masked. "Tomorrow," he replied in concession. She winced at the delay, but understood the reason for it.

 

 

**v.**

* * *

 

Two weeks spent acclimating to the lifestyle of the Order of the Ra'mahniit sect had Lieutenant Nyx Shepard feeling a little stir crazy. The lack of an operational tempo on this assignment had her scrambling for a foothold; this feeling was complicated by the fact that she lacked her usual outlets. As a temple-bound priestess, Shepard was woefully out of her depth. The pretend priestess walked the area around Moswen's Altar trying to get a feel for the area; in her experience, it helped to know a place by more than just the map. While she knew the city streets and even some of the more noticeable alleys and back walkways, you could find more if you at least saw the place and walked the area yourself.

Strolling along one of the wide thoroughfares in New Thebes, the trio said little, they merely walked. The transport vehicle that passed them drew the scrutiny of both Alliance operators. Normally both would have tracked it. Normally both would have noticed it start the skid and likely moved out of the area before the situation arose. But that would be the response of an operator, not a Ra'mahniit. The religious were sometimes harassed but the Na'hesit had not given the sect reason to view them as an aggressive threat, despite the attack that left Sunbear gravely wounded.

Their walk continued without any sign of recognition paid to the skidding of tires, the trotting footsteps of armored soldiers, or their calls. The interruption was ignored until a hand wrapped tightly around Shepard's upper arm and spun her. Caz turned and trained his weapon on the man who'd touched his childhood friend, the sister under his protection. The ardent was struggling back to his feet when a weapon was trained on him and Pheidole stilled.

By the uniforms, all of which bore blood red handprints, Shepard knew them to be Na'hesit. The one who grabbed her was human; his movements were careful and calculated. He did not touch her again, knowing that if he laid hands on the sister a second time he'd be giving the guardian cause to shoot him. She didn't need to see his face to know that his eyes were moving over her in a thorough inspection, because she saw his fingers moving inches from her. This man also seemed to trust that the Guardian would make the shot, because he did not slip as his hands moved intimately but without touching her. Instead, he leaned toward her then one hand moved out of her view as he quickly tugged her hood back. Shepard's eyes met his—cool and calm.

The smile never fully formed, but for a moment there was surprise in his vibrant green eyes. He had not expected her to be so bold, but he acclimated to it quickly. He did not back away from her after revealing her face, choosing to loom over the unfamiliar sister. Satisfied that he knew what he was dealing with, he tilted his head at her.

"Why are you sisters always such pretty little things?" he asked, finally taking a small step back with a quick glance over his shoulder at one of the batarians, who chuckled ominously in agreement, adjusting chest piece.

"You take a great chance out here on the street, especially if the wrong men might happen upon you." He looked over her shoulder at the guardian. "And traveling with only  _one_  armed escort." He ticked his tongue against the roof of his mouth in a mocking way. "He could be easily subdued, or gravely wounded, placing him in the shameful position of having to bear witness." The malevolent grin was not meant for her, this man was clearly trying to incite Caz."Then you would be left defenseless." His eyes were back on her. "Save for that pitiful little athame."

Shepard said nothing. She didn't reply in any way, knowing that was precisely what the Na'hesit squad leader was looking for. Thus far, she had fairly successfully avoided his attempts to read her. "Captain," a human called from the open door of the transport. "Got a call."

"Ah, I do apologize, beautiful, but someone is begging for a bullet, and as much as I'd like to stay I must oblige." The soldier circled his hand in the air and his men lowered their weapons and returned to their vehicle. "Good day, Sister." He spat in her direction as he walked backward a few steps watching the holy woman as his men moved toward the vehicle.

"Blessings of the Great Father upon you. May he guide your steps," Shepard retorted quickly to the man as he retreated. The bow of his head was barely noticeable before he lowered his weapon and joined his men.

"Sister," Pheidole stammered as he got to his feet, "are you…?"

"Shall we continue?" she asked. Her eyes met Calev's for a moment, the answering nod she gave the question she saw there caused him to sling his weapon. Seeing the distress in the young ardent's face the sister looped her arm around his. "Perhaps not," she decided with an understanding look. He nodded appreciatively.

 

 

**vi.**

* * *

 

When they returned to the temple, Calev watched her speak with Pheidole quietly. Whatever she told him seemed to settle the ardent's nerves, though he could understand why the threats and insinuations of the Na'hesit soldier had the young man worried. Ra'mahniiti Sisters were a treasured asset of the temple, they were the vessels of the Great Father, and the suggestions that had been made even had the seasoned operator on edge. Calev Zingel could sympathize with the distress Pheidole was suffering considering the same worries and concerns were playing through his own mind.

"Dovekie," Caz said softly as she rose. As she approached he nodded his head toward her chambers, he followed when she passed him. Taking his privilege as her guardian he sealed the door behind them, but spoke in whispers. "You took a big chance there."

"I was right, wasn't I?" Shepard asked as she lowered herself carefully onto the pillows that decorated the area around the table.

Calev smiled and sat opposite her. "That remains to be seen. But it seems Harel has opted to make the same mistakes too many others have in the past. He seems to have underestimated you." He leaned forward and took a small purple rind fruit from the bowl on the table.

Shepard looked at him raising one eyebrow. "That was the point, wasn't it?" She was silent for a moment. "And we both know he won't be the last either."

"True." He smiled at her as he peeled back the rind and bit into the bright green flesh beneath it. "I rather expected something else from that encounter."

He didn't need to see her eyes narrow on him, he could feel her glare. "You expected that?"

Calev looked up at her for a long moment, he said, "I expected it three days ago, the first time I took you out for a stroll."

"And you didn't warn me?" Shepard looked down at her fingertips shaking her head in irritation.

"If you'd known, you would have responded differently and we both know it." He paused until she got over the momentary aggravation of having been left in the dark. "The man that grabbed you, his name is Rafe Harel. Intel says he's a corporate stooge; local hired gun with a big ego. He is vocal in his opposition to the freedom allowed to Ra'mahniiti Order. He feels the fact that the clergy take no side is a sign that they favor the rebels. So he pushes against the standing orders of both factions and harasses the religious, mainly the sisters, though it seems like he is actually targeting the guardians. He knows our responses, also seems to enjoy pushing us to the edge. I think he's trying to get one us to overreact."

"I noticed that," she interrupted. "He certainly seemed to enjoy pushing your buttons."

Calev shrugged. "Well, you weren't giving him any satisfaction," he laughed. "I was the next best thing."

"Looked more pointed from where I was standing."

"It's not personal yet, though he wants it to be," her friend said, shaking his head and looking at the fruit he'd nearly finished. "And, no, it's not the first time he and I have met, though it is the first time I've had the pleasure to draw down on him." Calev looked at her and smiled widely. "And I must add, I'm rather surprised that you managed to play the pacifist," he added quietly with a mischievous tone.

"Too much reading and praying. Not sure how long it will keep," she replied with a smirk and a sidelong glance. He chuckled lightly with a shake of his head. "This is not my style. But it's my calling," she replied with a demure bow of her head, though the playful smile on her lips was all Nyx.

Shepard and Zingel met like this often, as did many Sisters and their Guardians. So their time sequestered was not surprising to any in the order, though many would have been surprised to find that this Guardian did not have the knowledge of his Sister customary to those of his station. It was not expected, but it was more than common for the men charged with protecting the holy women to become responsible for more than just the protection of the physical form. The connections between priestesses and their sworn guardian were encouraged as providing an additional path to spiritual enlightenment. The relationships were skewed toward the benefit of the holy women, requiring sacrifice and restraint from the males. While Nyx and Caz shared a connection, they had been dear friends since childhood, their relationship only ever functioned on that level, especially on Anhur where their lives depended one another's cool head.


	3. Shifting Scrutiny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maintaining her cover has finally paid off for Lt. Shepard, but becoming a more visible member of the Anhurri religious clergy is not quite all it is cracked up to be. Leaving the temple brings its own new and interesting challenges.

 

**New Perspective, A Prologue of First Watch of the Night**

**Chapter 3: Shifting Scrutiny**

  
**i** **.**

* * *

 

Though the exploration of the city had begun in as an attempt to familiarize herself with the feel of the streets and the traffic flow in various areas, Shepard had been very careful about excursions into what was considered Na'hesit territory after her first encounter with Harel and his squad. But the afternoon of the ritual, Sisters Meadowlark and Dovekie would be leading their concordants back into a mercenary-controlled area of New Thebes in order to attend to the a springtime ritual performed in hopes of securing the favor of the Great Father and his second wife Moswen who was associated with the sun and growth and harmony. Sunbear had offered to join their excursion, but Shepard saw it in his eyes. He wasn't ready. Part of her expected that entering Na'hesit territory would place them all in a position for another confrontation; in his current state, both physically and emotionally, Sunbear could be a liability.

Her instincts about Harel turned out to be dead on. He was leaning in an alleyway, his cronies at his back as her concordant made their way toward the religious site deep in the territory controlled by the Red Hand.

"I knew you couldn't stay away, my lovely," he said with a playful chuckle.

Meadowlark glanced in his direction, but kept pace with her sister who made no response except to continue on her way.

"Aww. Don't be that way," he replied, catching up to her easily. He draped an arm familiarly over her guardian's shoulder as he looked down at her. "I thought we had something you and I. I mean not many Sisters would proceed to bless the man that had interrupted their walk. He patted Caracal's chest and leaned toward him. "I bet she warms up once you get her between the sheets, doesn't she?" he asked the guardian, loud enough for them all to hear. "Probably mewls like a newborn kitten."

Her ignoring him seemed to have riled him. He tugged her hood again and stepped in front of her, stopping in her path. She halted before she ran into him then merely glanced at him before replacing her hood and stepping around him.

"I don't know Harel. I think she may immune to your charms," one of his batarians quipped.

The mercenary's laughter was like warm rolling thunder. "Not a chance. But she is making this fun."

This time when he placed himself in her path he was flanked by his men. "So, Sister. Shall I remove the hood or will you?" Harel waited for a moment for her to respond to his request. When his hands moved toward her, Shepard raised her hands and swept her hood back. "Such lovely eyes," he said appreciatively.

"I would ask that you let us pass," she requested in a low, even voice.

"So polite," the batarian observed, leaning toward her.

Harel waved him off with a telling glare. Toying with the priestess was one thing, but he sensed something darker in the batarian's interest and would not allow it to go unchecked. It was an action that seemed out of character given her encounters with this officer of the Na'hesit. "I will only keep you a moment." He leaned toward her, under the watchful and keen eyes of the guardians. "I was hoping we might happen upon one another again."

"No!" The yell pulled all their attention up the thin street to the Alliance soldier's right. The footfalls were fast and the voice delicate, but powerful. "No, you must not so this! Stop!"

The tall thin batarian woman threw her scant weight behind the push, but it did not have the desired effect, though Harel did take a step back allowing the intruder to slip between he and the sister.

"Stop! You must stop this. To impede a sister in her duties is damning us all." Even as the four men in Harel's squad trained their guns on her, she was stoic. "The duties of a sister are sacred," she barked, her voice only wavering for a moment. "And are not to be interfered with."

The guardians had not responded to the batarians taking aim, because their target was clear, and their station would not allow them to threaten the other men for the sake of any besides the person or object under his sworn protection. And everyone on the street there knew it. The Na'hesit could shoot that young female and the Guardians could not respond. Shepard surprised them all, even her old friend, by placing her hand on the shoulder of the woman, thereby placing her under the priest's protection. Shepard felt the woman shiver with the contact and the brothers raised their weapons-Caz targeted the dark-thoughted batarian and Serval chose a senior-looking scarred mercenary. In that touch the woman became an extension of the Sister.

Rafe Harel studied the human female, and his look clearly demonstrated his bewilderment. With a wave of his hand, his men lowered their weapons and the guardians replied similarly. "Sister Dovekie," he offered with a slight nod.

"May Moswen's light shine on your path guided by the Great Father," she replied as he passed her. When his eyes met hers, he saw it for a moment-surprise.

The mercenaries retreated back up the street and Shepard ignored the looks of her fellows. "Your sacrifice for the safety of my person is greatly appreciated, dear one," she told her intercessor. Her time in the temple among other priests had rubbed off on her. And there were times when it felt familiar-rules and guidelines were something the officer understood and the Ra'mahniiti faith was not lacking in them.

The young batarian, recovering herself, turned quickly and prostrated herself before the priest. "Your favor is undeserved, Sister."

The kneeling Shepard had become used to, but this display-a woman curled up on the ground at her feet, face in the dirt-was striking and disturbing. It made the operative uncomfortable. With a glance toward her ardent, Pheidole quickly lifted the batarian to her feet. She still refused to look at the sister. Shepard placed two fingers under her chin and raised her face. "You placed my life above your own. The favor you are owed is beyond me to give. May I ask your name?"

"Larakka." The batarian blinked down at the priestess.

Nyx smiled. "Larakka. You have my thanks." Shepard placed her hand on Larakka's forehead and closed her eyes as she whispered a prayer of thanks and blessing over the young woman. With that, she loosed the batarian, replaced her hood, and folded her hands together in front of her. Novice Pheidole placed his arm around Larakka's and escorted her toward the shrine as the party took up their journey again.

Reaching the altar, Shepard overheard Serval whisper to his equal that the Na'hesit had followed the party. The operative assumed that they had followed in hopes of getting the batarian woman alone, a plan the lieutenant had no plans of seeing come to fruition. With a word to Pheidole, the ardent ensured that Larakka remained at his side during the ritual. When the time came for the faithful to speak of blessings they had been granted, Shepard presented Larakka as one such blessing. She was lavished with praise and attention from congregation and thanked by the other sisters and guardians present. During the display her reaction to the consideration was powerful, Ardent Pheidole actually had to support the batarian female through much of it.

With their return to Nebu Xa'Afeef, Calev waited for her in the doorway of her chambers. Nyx passed him without a word. The door sealed he crossed the room and fell unceremoniously onto a cushion then tossed a small red item in her direction. When she looked at it she smiled. "Where did you get this?"

"What can I say? I'm full of surprises." When she didn't respond, he added, "Just like the girl I grew up with and thought I knew  _so_  well."

Shepard delicately bit the corner off the little piece of dark chocolate her friend has tossed to her. "What can I say? People grow. People change."

"Not you, Nyx. You've been the same since we were kids."

"Yes,  _I_  have been. But I'm not me right now am I? I'm Sister Dovekie."

"Who has just enough Nyx Shepard in her to make a Ra'mahniiti Sister stand out in a wool-clad crowd."

She leaned back and looked at the ceiling as she popped the last bite of chocolate into her mouth, savoring the texture and bare sweetness. "I'm struggling here."

Her eyes searched the ceiling, while her friend crawled across the cushions and sat next to her. He slipped his arm around her and pulled her close to him. It reminded them both of when they were kids and Nyx would break out the constellation map her grandfather had made for her. They would lay on the floor for hours staring up at projected pinpricks of light on the ceiling and walls.

"Talk to me Nyxy," he whispered laying his cheek on her head.

"The lack of operational tempo is shredding my nerves."

"You seem to be masking it well."

She chuckled. "Yeah, but I was always good at that. Mostly. This is getting ugly. Harel's playing a game. But that batarian in his crew."

"I know. I let the Guardian Captain know."

"Of course you did."

"Well, I always was Mr. Dependable," he opined with a bright laugh. It was what she and Lin had always called him. He took care of his friends, helped them when they needed it, and had always been there as best he could be for them both.

With that Shepard pushed him off the large cushion and onto the cold floor. He came back up laughing with her and grinning mischievously. "No," she warned.

"Oh yeah. Payback's a…" he lunged and caught her before she could escape, tickling her sides relentlessly as she became breathless from laughter. He sat next to her and looked at her for a long moment as she smiled up at him easily. "I don't think there is a chance that the fighting won't come to the temple. And when it does…"

She sat up and nodded, the momentary reprieve over. "I know. We'll be ready."

He was staring at his hands pensively. "The girl that stepped in." Shepard nodded. "She's an abolitionist. Smuggles people out of Na'hesit territory. From what I here, she's even infiltrated some of their facilities and pulled women and children out a few at a time," Caz noted with a trace of admiration.

"Did I make her a target?" Nyx asked with great concern.

Caz shook his head. "Larakka was already on their radar. I think that's why they followed us. But I can't be certain." He looked at her for a long moment. "Harel seems to have taken quite an interest in you."

"He's lost."

Her friend narrowed his eyes on her as she stood. "What do you mean?"

"I've seen it before in the teams. Think you want something then when you're in the thick of it you realize you might have made the wrong call. I've seen it get people killed."

"So you think he's harassing you because he has buyer's remorse?"

She pushed him back into the cushion as she passed. Gazing out the window that looked onto the courtyard, she crossed her arms over her chest. "No it's not that simple. But it looks like a shade of the same vein."

"What do you think he wants with you?"

Shepard turned and looked over her shoulder. "Like he said, I'm the only sister that ever blessed him after being accosted."

Caz just roared with laughter. He walked over and hugged his friend. "Can't believe he's looking for spiritual guidance from the most died-in-the-wool agnostic I've ever met."

She rolled her eyes at him and looked back out at the darkening sky. "I'm not agnostic. I just don't look at things the same way most people do. Doesn't mean I don't have my own beliefs."

 

 

**ii.**

* * *

 

Over the next few weeks what had been occasional harassment of the Ra'mahniiti became more widespread. Meadowlark had asked Shepard to join her for tea to discuss the soldier's opinions on what Meadowlark considered some key tenets of her religion. She had noticed the officer's different approach and was curious to understand it. The two were still exchanging pleasantries when Serval burst through the door of Meadowlark's chambers.

The sudden look of relief that washed over the man's features struck the lieutenant. He stumbled across the room still clearly struggling under the weight of whatever had prompted his distress, and when he reached Meadowlark he knelt at her feet. He kissed the hem of her robes, before he took her face in her hands, and kissed her deeply.

"Praise to the Father," he muttered between kisses.

Shepard didn't excuse herself, she just stood silently and turned to leave. The look of horror in Caz's eyes stopped her.

"What has happened Serval?" Meadowlark asked, holding his face, trying to still his emotional outburst.

"When you weren't with the children, I was so worried."

Shepard and Caz were having a similar conversation, be it non-verbally.

"About what?"

Serval pressed his forehead against his lover's and closed his eyes tightly. "A small group of Na'hesit brought in a wounded man earlier." He looked at her, cradling her cheeks in his hands. "One of them was familiar with the temple."

"No!" Meadowlark screamed and Serval pulled her tightly to him trying to comfort her.

Caz set a hand on Shepard's shoulder and continued when his associate proved unable too. "They took a sister out of one of the secret entrances. Killed her unarmed guardian. She is nowhere to be found. We don't know where to find her." He looked at her pointedly and whispered, "I don't know where to find her."

The defeated tone in his whisper clued the soldier into the seriousness of the situation. It was at that moment that Shepard realized her friend was carrying a pistol. Weapons were strictly forbidden within the temple, had been for decades. But this infiltration seemed to have set that tradition aside.  _Who?_ Shepard mouthed. When Caz shook his head she knew she didn't know the young woman.

"My dear Serval. I may need your strength," Meadowlark murmured as she slipped out of his grasp. She looked at Shepard and held out her hand. "Sister."

The expectation was clear, but there were other plans playing through Shepard's mind at that moment and none of them involved prayer. Caz leaned toward her. "Join her. I'll tap some resources and see is  _anyone_  knows anything. Maybe I can find out what is going on."

His insinuation was clear. It was his network that Anderson had hinted to being in place, Caz's network of informants that would not be traditional operational resources because they were intelligence assets-people to be used carefully and with great caution giving consideration to their place and continued usefulness.

Several hours spent reciting various litanies was not Shepard's chosen method of dealing with any situation, but she understood the expectation and the necessity as much as it grated her nerves. This operation was all about appearances and expectations. The cough drew a covert glance from her. She patted Meadowlark's hand, the priestess didn't even seem aware of the touch or the operative's removal.

"Nothing," Caz told her.

She grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him across the open area, holding her hand up at Pheidole who had started to follow her. "You cannot be serious."

"Whoever did it is playing it close to the vest. There's nothing. I checked the tunnels myself. No trace except what was intentionally left to tell us they took her."

"Fine." She looked away, clearly calculating something.

"What are you going to do?" he growled in her ear. He knew the look in her eyes-that dangerous, calculating look that had always made him nervous, even as children.

She looked up at him sharply. "Nothing."

The look in his eyes told her he didn't believe her. "Whatever you are planning, don't you do it on your own, Nyx."

"I won't. But you have to be a ghost."

 

 

**iii.**

* * *

 

Calev was not a fan of her plan. She was going into the lion's den and if things went south he wasn't sure he'd be able to get to her in time. The architecture wasn't conducive to a quick climb and he'd break his neck if he jumped. The deep cover operative knew she'd be less noticeable in the civilian clothes they'd stolen from two patients in the clinic, but it was not common for women on Anhur who were not women of the faith to have shaved heads. That was relatively disguised by the woolen skull cap he'd acquired.

Shepard was keeping to the alleys and thin walkways, and avoiding the main streets as she moved toward the safe house. They were both simply hoping that she wouldn't be walking into a building filled with Na'hesit.

"Scan it." The order came on a whisper in his ear.

"Three. Basement, ground floor, and roof," he offered. He took aim quickly and fired the dart across the expanse. "Roof down."

"And you're sure he's here?"

"No, like I said before I'm not sure. I just know it's common for him to be here."

Caz scanned the building again waiting to see a third heat signature in the building, but it didn't appear. "Where are you?"

"Change of plans," she replied quickly.

Her friend cursed and he started scanning the surrounding area trying to pinpoint her.

 

 

**iv.**

* * *

 

"Have to say. I'm a little surprised you came looking for me." Rafe looked at her, his green eyes locked on hers. "Though in a way I'm not." He stepped toward her. "Tell Caracal there's been a change of plans."

When she complied he gestured toward the alley way behind him. He guided her to a small enclosed garden and sealed the door behind them. "So I take your presence here to mean you are aware of Gharnek's little decree." Rafe was hoping for a response, but she was a stoic as always. "Gharnek told a group of the batarians in his inner circle that the temple is no longer off limits. Paak decided that meant he could just walk right in and take one of those pretty little sisters of yours. Though if I had to hazard a guess he was probably looking for you."

"How did he know where to look?"

"People talk," he stated quickly taken aback by the sound of her voice. "It's common knowledge that you spend a lot of time in the clinic. The  _faithful_ ," he spat the word out, "talk about how you saved the guardian. What's his name?"

"Sunbear."

Rafe was studying her, leaning near the door. "Yeah, well. You worry them. Us," he corrected with a subtle chuckle. She raised an eyebrow at him. "You're different than the other priests. And there are whispers."

"What kind of whispers?"

 

 

**v.**

* * *

 

 

Caz cringed, she'd left her connection open for two reasons, so he could pinpoint her location and so he could hear the conversation. He thought he had a good line and raised his rifle to check. Satisfied he dropped to his belly and took a steadier position in case taking the shot became necessary.

"Fuck," he whispered when he heard Rafe's insinuation. He quickly relocated them in the scope.

 

 

**vi.**

* * *

 

"The kind that make people cautious," Rafe replied. "But I'm sure you're not here to talk about the gossip of farmers and shopkeepers.

"Where's the sister?"

The mercenary looked at her carefully for a long moment, studying her. "I honestly don't know."

She closed her eyes and shook her head slightly. The disappointment was clearly etched on her face. "Can you find out?"

Harel looked away. "No." He didn't wait for her to interject. "I've already made my displeasure about the issue known. I was rebuked and told to let it go. Don't look surprised," he added after a momentary pause. "I don't agree with the neutrality granted to the Ra'mahniit. But it is one thing to try the patience of a guardian here and there. It is quite another to kidnap a sister, and …"

"And?" Dovekie asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

"How many batarians do you know?" When she looked away, he continued. "They are good and bad at one thing-torture. Some of them are more gifted than others. Gharnek likes to cultivate such prowess. If the temple sees that girl again, they won't want to."

He never saw it coming. He felt his lip split from the punch, and Rafe hadn't expected so much power in her lean frame. She slammed him against the garden wall, her forearm braced against his throat. "You … you …"

"Bastard? Son of a bitch? Is that along the lines of what you're struggling for, Sister?" he asked touching his lip gingerly. "Right on both counts," he added, staring into her eyes, uncertain about what he was seeing there.

She pressed him against the wall again, cutting off his air supply for a moment before she loosened her grip. He was still playing catch up with her and the reaction he hadn't expected. Her hands were quickly on his shoulders, then the pain dulled his brain as he fell to his knees. Before he could struggle back to his feet she had used a bench to hoist herself over the fence.

"Fucking priests," he groaned as he knelt on the ground on all fours. He spit the pooling blood from his mouth as he waited for the intensity of the pain to subside.

He laughed hoarsely at the puddle of blood dripping from his mouth. "Maybe she is the saif," he muttered before he rolled over and leaned against a tree as he looked up at the moon. "That would be something else."

 _The Saif of the Great Father_. He considered it for a moment. As well as any other citizen of Anhur he knew the legends. The Mistress of the Hearth, Akha, forged a blade for the Great Father during a time of great strife. Into that blade she poured her very essence, her body and soul joining with the blade imbuing it with the protective fire of a wife and mother. According to the stories she literally became the saif of her lover, the sword he wielded in battle. From the moment Dovekie met his gaze in the street, Rafe had known she was not the type of sister he had known most of his life. He had seen a fire in her eyes that he'd never come across, and it fascinated him, possibly to his own detriment.

 

 

**vii.**

* * *

 

Caz was waiting for her just inside the entrance when she climbed down into the tunnel. "What the hell was that?" he asked as she dropped the last few rungs, her boots ringing off the hard floor.

She shrugged. "He deserved it."

"Priests do not go around punching mercenaries in the face and the kneeing them in the groin."

Shepard stopped and glared at him. "Tell me you haven't thought about doing the same thing." He just stared at her. "You're just pissed that I got to do it," she added playfully.

"If someone finds out…" he started, grabbing her arm and spinning her to face him.

"Yeah. Because the Na'hesit mercenary squad leader is going to advertise the fact that a Sister of the temple just kicked his ass." Turning away from him again, her pace quickened as she jogged through the utility tunnels. "Besides he locked the door behind him. I was going need a distraction to get out of that garden anyway."

"Could have asked me to shoot him? That would have been a distraction."

Nyx chuckled maniacally, but kept her pace steady. It had been nice to spend a few hours closer to herself than she'd been in months. At no point in the evening, had she felt like she was truly herself, even when she'd debilitated Harel, but she knew Caz was right too. It wasn't very sisterly behavior. Both of them changed quickly back into the uniforms of their cover before they reentered the temple via one of the underground entrances. Shepard spent quite a bit of time wandering around the corridors as if she were sleepless, while her accomplice returned the clothing they had borrowed.

 

 

**viii.**

* * *

 

The mothers and the elder sisters feared the impression and reaction that increasing security for the sisters and in the temple could have. Mainly they worried that it would make the faithful feel neglected, or give out the impression that the temple was mistrustful of the people it was meant to serve. But the abduction of a priestess was troubling to many in the church and beyond; it was a turning point for the abolitionist rebellion, the Na'hesit, the Ra'mahniiti, as well as the populace of New Thebes and Anhur as a whole.

For a time the temple tried to maintain itself as it always had. Sisters moving in pairs, instead of singly, still conducted services. Guardians became more vigilant. And the faithful became more wary of anyone associating with the Na'hesit. For a time it seemed the abduction was having the opposite of the intended effect.

Shepard remained a favorite target of Rafe and his men, though he was not the only one that she had dealings with. One bold group of Na'hesit even went so far as to interrupt the ritual to Asimkhu, the first Guardian, at his shrine located not too far south of the temple. A squad of men entered the open air shrine, and several of the parishioners objected stringently to the invasion, some even challenging the soldiers. The crowd, despite Shepard's attempts to calm them, continued to verbally accost the Na'hesit, closing on the men and yelling for them to leave that place in peace.

"Back up," one batarian growled as he trained his weapon on a member of the crowd.

"This is a holy gathering," Novice Pheidole said sharply, feeling inspired by the increasingly dangerous sentiment of the crowd. "Please leave. These people have done nothing."

"Precisely," another armored man barked, grabbing the ardent, which caused Brother Caracal to train his weapon on the man.

"Unhand the holy man," one older woman yelled. "He's the hand of a Sister, to lay hands on him is harm her. It is one of the starkest acts of sacrilege." Her charge started the crowd's demands for the ardent's release.

Shepard surveyed the soldiers, reading people was a gift that came in handy in her line of work. When saw one whose discomfort was clear, she approached him and looked at him softly. "You know this is not right. To disgrace the gods in a sacred place. To harass their vessels. This is not our way. This is not the way of Anhur." When the young man knelt at her feet, his commander turned his weapon on her. Calev's warning went unheeded and one shot began it all. The batarian's shot went wide, piercing the chest of the statue behind her, despite this failure, dangerous insanity had broken out.

The man at her feet rose in her defense, placing himself between her and three of his fellows. But the sister was still forced to draw her blade. The man nearest her turned in her direction, but she was quicker. Her friend's prediction came true in a fashion he had never intended, never could have imagined. The movement was fluid and precise in its power and effect, leaving the scarred batarian at the feet of the hooded sister, his artery gushing blood into a pool at her feet.

Everything froze. The Na'hesit lowered their weapons, their eyes moving from the body to the priestess to her knife which dripped the blood of their fellow. The faithful whispered and murmured in surprise. One was bold enough to be heard. "She is the Father's Saif."

The only person in the shrine not reacting to the event was Caz. His stance was solid and his weapon ready for anything that might occur.

Shepard's desire was to look at her friend for support, but she knew that was not what would be expected of her. Her words were from one of the prayers of the ritual she had been performing when the soldiers arrived. "Rise. There is no reason for the faithful to fear. Anhur is our home. The gods will not leave us to the mercy of cowards."

As the people rose to their feet, the Sister leaned her head back toward the darkening sky and raised her hands over her head, palms toward the people as she prayed over them all. Then Shepard knelt at the body of each man who had fallen and gave them the traditional blessing delivered at death. Her attention finally fell on the soldier that had turned on his fellows to save what he believed in. Then as was expected of her, she continued the ritual to Asimkhu even with blood soaking the hem of her garb and soles of her boots.

When Shepard returned to the temple, the temple's Revered Mother was waiting for the three of them. "Sister Dovekie," the elder called sternly. Nyx and her concordant followed the older woman through the corridors, the state of her garb and the paleness of her ardent drew a great deal of attention, but as the blood had mostly dried she left very little sign of the events of the day in the temple itself.

Once they were within the Mother's chambers her Guardian and her Ardent stopped just inside the doors. The Sister followed the older woman into a deeper chamber. When the door closed behind the blood-stained marine, the holy woman turned to face her.

"Our order began as protectors of our people. Our daggers were not always ceremonial, nor were they always daggers," she said offering an apparent understanding of what had occurred at the shrine. "I have heard a great deal about what happened. It seems you were guided to us, Sister. This event is sure to have repercussions, beyond the temple providing sanctuary to a Na'hesit deserter."

"It was not my intention. They threatened the people, my concordant, and I. When the shot rang out all any of us could do was react. But I understand that I must surrender myself to the will of the Great Father."

The mother slipped the younger woman's hood back, and Shepard's eyes rose to meet those searching her face. Taking the hem of her own robe, the Mother dipped it in the font near them and dabbed it at a swipe of blood that had marred the pale cheek of the young sister.

"It seems the whispers may hold a shred of truth. Return to your cell. I must commune. Guidance in this situation is required."

Sister Dovekie knelt and bowed her head deeply. The Mother's hand was trembling when she placed it on the kneeling woman's head. The voice was shaky as she spoke the traditional blessing upon the young sister. The soldier rose and replaced her hood. As she reached the door the mother called, "I believe you will be in need of additional Guardians when you leave the temple. I will speak with the Captain."


	4. A Leaf in the Wind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things change not only for the Ra'mahniiti sisters and their guardians, but after another Na'hesit visitation to a holy site things change dramatically for Nyx and the people around her.

**New Perspective, A Prologue of First Watch of the Night**

**Chapter 4: A Leaf in the Wind**

**i.**

* * *

 

After the abduction of a sister a lot of things had changed for Ra'mahniiti clergy, even more so after the events at Asimkhu's altar. Sisters travelled in groups of three or more. Guardians were pulled from protection of religious places and bolstered the numbers of armed men escorting the females through the city. Nebu Xa'Afeef was also harder to gain entry to and groups of more than three adults were not allowed to enter together. To many it looked as if the Na'hesit were getting their way, the temple was becoming disconnected from the people that it served. But still the Sisters went out to the sites around New Thebes and conducted the rituals and litanies in praise and prayer to the gods.

Though Calev tried to convince Shepard to remain sequestered in the temple, she refused. Shepard also refused to limit her movements to the vicinity of the temple. No one really expected the Na'hesit to attempt another disturbance in a ritual, but that was precisely what happened one evening as the sun set over the Altar of Akha, the mistress of the hearth. The frustration of the Na'hesit was clear from the moment they entered the shrine. The rocket launcher was leveled at the Sister standing vigil off to the left of the shrine itself. Sunbear had called out to them all, as he dove for Dovekie. Serval pulled Meadowlark into an alcove and covered her body with his as the back wall exploded. Then he began firing selectively, careful to try and keep his charge safe.

Shepard scrambled to cover and pressed her back against it. When Calev's eyes met hers, she knew she wasn't looking at a Guardian in that moment. He scooted closer to her. "You have to get out of here," he ordered, without saying either of her names, but he was speaking to the soldier who had experience in these kinds of firefights.

"Like, hell."

"Now is not the time to be stubborn." He popped up, looking over the wall and took an advancing man out with a three-shot burst then making quick note of his next target. "I need you not to argue for once."

The look he gave her was desperate. He pressed the pistol into her hands and looked at the hole the rocket had blown through the wall of the open air courtyard that was the altar of the Great Father's modest lover Akha.

"Now, go!" he barked, punctuating the order with a gesture of his head.

She muttered an incoherent swear under her breath as she stared at him for a second before forcing herself to dart through the unexpected exit. These were the times she hated, but she knew he couldn't do what he had to do with her there. She also knew that it would be more likely that the Na'hesit would follow her, allowing the others to escape. She guessed they were both banking that her sudden withdrawal could redirect the enemy's attention toward trying to locate her rather than pressing harder on that location or the temple. It was a calculated risk and they both knew it. They suspected her removal was the best chance for all of them because of the doggedness of the attack and the clear announcement of their target.

Proceeding through the exit suggested by her friend, because it was less likely to be lined with Na'hesit waiting to intercept her, Shepard dashed through the thin alleyway. It was her best chance to escape the ambush. Calev's best chance of getting the people left at the holy site out of harm's way. The lieutenant sprinted down the narrow relatively straight path, trying to get some distance from the location. She slowed a bit as she started checking the little feeder walkways and alleys that led out to larger streets where she worried that she might be easier to spot. But the alley, being long, narrow, and relatively straight presented another worry. One well-placed sniper could end her interference on Anhur before it truly began.

One saving grace was the twilight. The sun was going down could make the light play tricks in the scope. Even so she still stuck close to the wall. When a thick hand clamped down on her arm and unceremoniously dragged her backward, Shepard had the gun up and at the temple of the man before he bounced her against the wall a blade and strong arm at her throat.

"What the  _hell_  are you doing out in the open?" he hissed at her. Rafe stared down at her, green eyes alight with fire. "Sonuvabitch. They actually did it didn't they?" The knife moved away from her skin as he punched the wall next to her head. He was muttering furiously at himself, she only caught a few choice words like father, sister, and damnable.

Shepard wasn't sure how to take this reaction. She didn't keep her gun trained on him, she knew she could take him down before he crossed the room to her if he turned hostile.

"Are you trying to get yourself killed?" he asked, staring at her.

He still had the knife in his hand, and she noticed the etching for the first time. It was a guardian's blade. That observation raised some questions in her mind, but also seemed to clarify some things for her. She watched him more carefully and considered their encounters more carefully. Each time she came across him, he'd known precisely how to press the males of the order, knew exactly the lines not to cross. And even the first time she'd been the target of his attention he'd shown an unusual mix of disregard and respect for Shepard and the position she was playing.

"By the Father, Sister," he said slamming the blade into the sheath strapped to his thigh. "Saif or not, do you have a death wish?" He stared at her. "They've already taken two Sisters, yet you still walk around this place like there's no threat. Your guardians are probably already dead, and I find you looking up at the clouds like some damn wistful girl."

"I was checking the rooftops for snipers, actually," she revealed quietly. His eyes sharpened on her. "I'm not so naïve as you would believe." With a nod in his direction, she asked, "Why did you grab me?"

"Because my men are stationed in this perimeter to cut off your retreat route." She raised the pistol. Rafe Harel set his hands on his hips and studied the floor just past his boots. "If I wanted you dead, Dovekie we wouldn't be talking. One of us would be bleeding out on the floor."

Shepard knew he was right, but she still preferred the exchange from her current vantage point-with him squarely in her sights. "Thought you'd retrieve the package yourself, then?"

When he raised his face to her, he actually looked scandalized. "What?" He stared at her. "I've never done anything to suggest that I would ever harm a sister, least of all you."

He was clearly indignant about the aspersion she'd cast in his direction then his gaze softened a bit and he sighed heavily. "My mother was an Anhurri Sister," he revealed.

Shepard raised an eyebrow at him but he ignored it.

He paced for a moment, considering his own revelation before he said, "But we don't have time for that now. We need to get you out of here. But we can't with you looking all … holy."

"Agreed," she replied, lowering her weapon again.

That had already been in the plan she was forming on the fly, before he'd yanked her off the street. Quickly locating the bedroom, she found something more to her liking and was surprised to find clothing that nearly fit. She walked out of the bedroom still layered, but in less obvious clothing.

She shoved the linen and wool at him, with one terse order. "Burn it."

Harel seemed taken aback by the easy way she'd taken a bent toward the practical. As he manipulated the incinerator in the corner of the kitchen, he watched her pull a short sleeve shirt on over the undershirt she'd claimed and a thick long sleeve shirt over that. When she started fumbling with the belt that was giving her problems keeping the too-large pants up, he rounded the counter and pulled the knife from its sheath.

"Here, let me," he suggested. Carefully working the tip of the blade against the leather, his eyes remained on his task, but she watched him, still not certain why he was helping her. The clue about his mother didn't really suggest if that was the reason he'd pulled her off the street or if there was more. He fastened the belt for her then looped it around itself and a belt loop. "That should work long enough to get you out of here."

The gold flecks in his green eyes seemed to dance in the flashes from the incinerator. Shepard shook her head violently. "The sun should be down soon. We could get to the temple."

"No, we can't." Rafe crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the counter as she looked over her shoulder at him. "They have the temple locked down by now." Her eyes narrowed at him. "I planned the lockdown of the temple. There's no way past them. Even the secret entrances are being watched. They'd shoot anyone who got near them."

She leaned on the wall near the window trying to glean if the street was clear. "I have to warn Caracal."

"Your guardian's not an idiot. He'll know not to go that way. And the guard's will let him pass. The Na'hesit just want you."

Her eyes were quickly back on him, her hand tightening around the grip of the pistol, as he moved toward her slowly. Rafe leaned over her and searched her blue eyes. "I'm not playing with you. I'm not planning to give you to those batarian fiends, even if …" He shook his head. "I'd never put any woman in that position, especially a sister. I know you don't have a reason to trust me, but just extend enough confidence for me to get you out of New Thebes."

Shepard clamped her bottom lip between her teeth as she looked up at him. "All right."

His hand moved down her arm, stopping at her wrist Shepard noticed. "Stay with me, do not dally."

She rolled her eyes at the insinutation as they moved out a side door to the flat he'd pulled her into.  _Underestimation, yet again_ , she thought. She kept up with him, surprising him several times when her body slipped into cover beside his. "If your squad is patrolling this area, how are we getting out?"

He smiled at her warmly. "Well, I'm not patrolling am I?"

She couldn't help but smile as he darted to the next doorway.

 

**ii.**

* * *

 

The mercenary and the Alliance operator had abandoned the vehicle on the roadside, sabotaging its power core. Twenty minutes after they walked into the desert, the spectacular explosion lit the night sky.

"You know someone will have seen that," she said as they climbed the steep ledge.

He held a hand out to her and she looked at it for a moment. "I'd hate for you to get this far only to fall and break your neck." When she laid her hand in his he pulled her against his chest then lifted her onto the next ledge.

"And if they investigate, they'll find the footprints," she added

"Of two men," he reminded with a glance at the oversized work boots she'd appropriated in New Thebes.

"Touché."

"Believe me, Sister. I'm pretty good at this. Besides, there's a sandstorm predicted for tonight. If it moves through then they won't have anything to follow."

"When is it supposed to move through?" she asked, trying to concentrate on her climb.

"Watch yourself, climb up there," he ordered, indicating a collection of sizeable boulders precariously perched on another ledge. "Up and over, Dovekie." When he climbed over them and landed on the protected path next to her, he glanced at his data cuff. "Forty minutes give or take."

"And do you have a plan for shelter?"

He grinned, taking her wrist again. Within fifteen minutes, Rafe had led her to a cave entrance. Tapping at his omnitool he cast a light ahead of them. "Watch your step. It's a little uneven."

The cave twisted and turned, moving deep into the Cliffside. But then it opened into a striking cavern, the large shallow lake in the center glowed from the combination of moonlight and bioluminescent bacteria that flourished there.

"The water is safe, though best to boil it first," he said as an aside as they continued past to a smaller chamber where he finally loosed her. "This cavern has three exits. I'll show you the routes tomorrow. But I don't think you'll need them," he advised as he started a small generator. "There aren't a whole lot of people who know about this place."

"Uh huh." She looked around the small prepared space, suspicion playing in her mind.

"I used to camp here with my father. We finally decided to stop trekking our gear in." His statement suggested he'd noticed her inspection of the place.

"So if your mother was a sister, that would mean your father …?"

He looked at her, his look cooled. "Yes. He's her Guardian." The curt answer spoke volumes. "And you already know my brother," he divulged, leaning back against the wall and sipping at a bottle of water that he capped and tossed to her.

"I do?"

He raked his hands over his face. "Serval." Shepard spat her mouthful of water at him, unintentionally. Rafe laughed. "What you don't see the family resemblance between my dutiful baby brother and myself."

Shepard shook her head, studying him for the resemblance.

"That's why he was assigned to Meadowlark, she didn't grow up in New Thebes. I'm fairly certain she still doesn't know that I'm his brother," the mercenary revealed. "But then I was sort of erased from the temple records."

"So, why did you help me?"

"I already told you," he replied closing his eyes.

Shepard sat on the cool ground, wrapping her arms around her knees. "No you didn't really. Just some excuse about batarians."

"Seems like a good enough reason to me," he observed.

"If it was a good enough reason, then why didn't you save the other two sisters."

"I didn't know about the first one until it was too late. I got the second one released. But not soon enough," he muttered, shaking his head and refusing to open his eyes.

She let it drop and took another sip of water as she listened to the sound of their breathing. That's all there was in that cave. Silence and tension. Questions and partial truths.

 

**iii.**

* * *

 

Once she had stopped with the questions, Rafe hazarded a glance at her. He knew she didn't want to know the answer, not really. She had a respected guardian in Caracal. The sister did not want to know that meeting her was the only thing that made him regret his choice to leave the temple. Dovekie was different from the other sisters he'd met, she looked at the Tahrirakh as he did, through the lens of experience, or lack thereof.

"You are a convert aren't you?" he finally asked. Her eyes were on him quickly, there was a hint of caution in her gaze. "You aren't like the other sister's. You are a little less lax in your interpretations of the traditions. Your litanies are verbatim, not paraphrased or altered in subtle ways."

The blue-eyed sister seemed surprised by his revelation.

He shook his head and leaned toward her. "The first time I met you, you blessed me. Why?"

Dovekie shrugged and looked at the bottle in her hands. Rafe wanted to see her eyes, needed to see them. "You seemed lost."

He smiled at her. "I'm sure Caracal told you my reputation. Why, if you were able to see it, did no one else offer the same kindness?"

The sister leaned toward him conspiratorially. "You do make it a little difficult to be considerate to you."

His laugh was warm, as was his gaze. She awoke something in him, something he thought he had lost. "On occasion, yes."

"Is that why you harass the Order? For someone to save you?"

He shook his head. "No. I guess I'm rebelling. When I chose not to remain, I lost my entire family along with my religion. A child that does not remain becomes a stranger." He wanted to shrink away from her, but for the life of him he couldn't move; the intensity of her gaze held him fast. "Perhaps I was just being impetuous. I wanted them to be reminded of me every time a guardian reported the harassment of the sister in his care to my father."

"Your father is the Guardian Captain?" There was a trace of surprise in the striking expanse of blue that entranced him.

He nodded. "And you never answered my question."

Relaxing slightly she leaned back on her hands. "Yes, I came to the faith late."

"It's a shame."

She raised her eyebrows at him with a trace of indignation. "Really?"

"I might have had more faith, if you'd been raised as I had."

"Why?"

"It would suggest they were returning to the Tahrirakh rather than the interpretations of the previous generations." Rafe took a deep cleansing breath and looked at his wrist. "You should get some sleep. I'll show you the exits and see if I can't get a fix on the rebels tomorrow."

Turning out the light he realized he should have waited. As he tried to find his sleeping bag he found her instead. Their heads met quickly enough to be painful. He reached out for her to check if she was okay and she had done the same. It was her hand on his neck that undid him. All the training he had as a young man flooded back in that second, combined with his growing attraction to and affection for her; his reaction was powerful and instinctual. Somehow he managed to deftly find her lips, even more surprising was the fact that she'd kissed him back rather than pulling her gun on him.

Her fingertips burned trails across his cheek, his jaw, his neck, as he wrapped an arm around her waist and pressed her body to his. Finally he broke free of his desire and leaned his forehead against hers for a moment.

"Guess that answers my earlier question." Her voice was deep and warm as her fingertips receded from his flesh. Perhaps batarians and their inventive torture methods were not the only reason he'd smuggled her out of New Thebes.

Rafe loosed her even though all he wanted was to prove himself worthy of her as a guardian should. He wanted her to accept him, accept his protection and his servitude, but something deep down told him that kiss, that stumble, was the only chance he'd be given. He listened to her rustle into the sleeping bag and zip it up. A part of him presumed it was highly likely she'd be sleeping with the pistol in easy reach.

 

**iv.**

* * *

 

Thankfully the mercenary didn't keep his omnitool protected. When she woke up she reconsidered the fact that she was in the wind. And in the wind with a mercenary squad leader who had designs on her. Shepard rubbed at her forehead lightly as the slightest throb tapped against her skull there. She hated deep cover missions, and this one was shaping up to be a prime example of why. Playing priest then having some guy fawning over someone she wasn't. Her touch was light and delicate, knowing that what she was doing could potentially wake him, but not really caring. She just needed to get to the extranet site and hopefully it would give Caz enough data to back hack the hit. The 'tool lit to life on his left hand and she tipped her head as her fingers moved as quickly as she could typing one-handed.

When he groaned slightly and shifted, her grip on Caz's pistol tightened as she moved slightly to allow her a clear shot. He looked like he was on the verge of waking up. Thankfully, the extranet site popped up in a timely manner. She tapped the comment box and typed a short note: _Unexpected friends can be handy. Gone hunting just over the horizon._

The risk was great. If Rafe had any technical prowess at all even her trying to hide her tracks wouldn't help. He'd still be able to see what she posted and where. She knew the post could possibly give Caz an area to ping for her at least, though she knew that even if Harel was a complete idiot that allowed his tool to post his positioning any embedded information wouldn't be enough to track. She tapped the omnitool interface closed and sat back for a moment, resting her forehead in her hand as the persistent throbbing beat against the inside of her skull.

"Good… morning," he greeted as he stretched. He was looking at her as if trying to decide what to think about her sitting within arm's reach.

"If you say so," she replied tiredly. She hadn't slept all that much, refusing to let herself sleep while he might still be awake. There were some things she preferred not to wake up to, and frisky mercenaries were on the top of the list.

"You doing all right?" His voice held a trace of what sounded like genuine concern.

Peeking out from under her hand she noticed he looked torn, concerned but uncertain, like he was trying to decide whether she'd let him help her. She wouldn't and attempted to clearly communicate that. "Just a headache."

Apparently her glare hadn't been clear enough. He sat up and leaned toward her, setting his hand on her shoulder. Shepard's response clarified things. She pressed the barrel of the pistol to his temple. "Let me see your eyes," he coaxed as she shrugged off his hand and got to her feet.

"It's a headache. I'm  _fine_ ," she replied, pressing a little harder to help emphasize the last word.

Harel held up his hands, letting her bend him awkwardly with the pressure against the side of his skull. "The dust on Anhur contains a virus. People develop an immunity to it over time," he explained. "It tends to be concentrated in places like caves where there's not a lot of air moment. If you're highly susceptible to it, it could be bad. So let me see your eyes."

"If you're…"

He turned his head enough to look up at her. "I thought I'd already clearly demonstrated that your death is not on my agenda when I yanked you out of New Thebes. Now, let me help you, if I can."

Relenting she crossed the space and took a seat on a crate near the light source. Out of habit she tapped the top of the pistol against her left hand as she watched him carefully. After digging a small kit out of a pack in the corner, he crossed to her and knelt in front of her, rolling the fairly standard medical kit open so she could inspect it. He touched her face gently, pulling lightly at the skin beneath her eyes.

"Look up." She stared at him a moment and he raised an eyebrow at her before she complied with a sigh. "Do you give doctors this much trouble too?"

"Usually."

Harel chuckled as his hands left her face. "Head back." Expecting her argument he quickly clarified, "It's just saline, to wash some of the dust out of your eyes. Then I'm going to give you another one that will help combat the virus."

"That it?" Nyx asked impatiently as her eyes screwed shut with the sting of the second set of drops. Luckily, her vision wasn't distorted when she reopened her eyes.

"Nope." He held out the thin tubular device. "Need to inhale this, once per side, every twenty four hours for three days" He shook his head seeing she still held caution. "The virus likes the mucus membranes. With most people it gets in the lungs and they end up with pneumonia, but there are some people where it gets caught in the sinuses and makes a break for the brain. So inhale please."

Shepard did as she was told and rewarded with two pills placed in her empty hand. She popped them in her mouth, since she'd watched him pull them out of a well-labeled bottle. Her eyes bored into him as he leaned against the wall of the cave near the pack he'd put the kit back in. "Why'd you kiss me last night?" she asked.

"I could ask the same question," he replied slyly. "I can tell you're not adverse to using your gun to control a situation. But you didn't last night."

"No idea. Now answer."

"Instinct," he replied looking away.

"Not buying it."

Rafe slid down the wall, knees bent, and rested his arms on top of his knees as he stared at her. "My parents raised my brother and I in the Order. I was 'born to be a guardian.' You are a sister. It's the way it's written in the Tahrirakh." There was no reply. "Surely Caracal …"

She looked away quickly without intending to.

"He hasn't?" This time her eyes were stoic. He looked at her. "There are probably a few brothers that would like to know that."

"Why?"

"The people believe you are the Great Father's Saif. The sacred weapon made flesh to protect the land and the faithful. There would be an expectation that your guardian would…," he paused for a moment seeking the perfect word, "hone that weapon. If anyone suspected there was not an adequate connection between you, they would attempt to find a guardian worthy to serve the Saif."

"Caracal is more than worthy."

"As a protector only it would seem."

"I do not require…"

His laugh interrupted her. "Your response last night would suggest otherwise." She looked down at the pistol in her hand. "A guardian is bound by a detailed code of behavior," he clarified as he stood and started moving toward her, which brought her attention back to him. "In  _all_  situations. When a guardian feels a connection to his sister, or sometimes even another sister, he is bound to inaction until she touches him. A sister's hand upon the bare flesh of a guardian frees him to act as he would choose." He touched her cheek softly as he stood over her. "That is why. You gave me license to reply as I would."

Shepard stood quickly regretting the proximity. She looked up at him as coolly as she could manage, she just hoped she wasn't failing miserably at it. Unsure why there was a part of her that wanted him, though she couldn't be sure what part of herself it was, or even if it was a desire wholly belonging to either the soldier or the priest, or maybe some part of both.

 

**v.**

* * *

 

The look in her eyes was determined, but not controlled; there was something in the deep blue that offered him a shred of hope, and spurred him to strive for her. The voice was cool, detached, but the eyes, they were not. Her eyes were ever a flurry that drew him in. "You're not a guardian," Dovekie noted.

"Not anymore. But I was once." His fingertips trailed lightly down her neck.

She was bolder than any sister he'd known, he thought as he stared down into her eyes; her gaze never wavered. Most would not make this strong a connection to the guardian they were bonded to, let alone one like him, but even from their first meeting she would not submit and look away, instead she challenged him at every turn. Even that night in the garden he could only remember fondly, though not without a wince. Most sisters would have been dependent on his mercy, his kindness. Dovekie had not waited for him to release her, she'd taken her fate in her own hands. For him there was no doubt that she was the Saif.

"I was confirmed at fifteen. Set as a guard at Akha's altar for two years before my first assignment to a sister." His eyes searched hers for any sign. "I was not as submissive or 'worthy' as the elders would have preferred me to be."

He told her of his four years of service to three different sisters. The first two had found him disagreeable, but most would when you challenge their outlooks. The final one was a sister he'd grown up with. She'd chosen him, but he didn't choose her. Her outlook was flawed, her faith weak-Magpie hadn't believed in anything. So, Rafe hadn't been able to believe in her, he couldn't serve a woman with no will or mind of her own. Magpie had been a chittering parrot and when she'd touched him, he'd walked away from her.

"Word had traveled through the temple fast. And my father came to me. Lectured me about duty, honor, sacrifice. I asked him if he'd desired my mother's touch. Tried to make him see that I didn't have that type of connection with Magpie." Her eyes widened slightly at the name and he smiled. "Precisely. She was worse when she was younger. Her guardian has mellowed her."

She listened intently, considering his tale. It was just one more thing about her that struck him. He continued, "I was told that the binding was expected, though it was not required for a guardian to serve a sister in such a way. My father clearly communicated that my future in the order depended on precisely that. So, rashly, I stripped myself of the mantle. I abandoned my calling rather than submit to one I couldn't at least respect."

 _No, she was right he could no longer claim the title, though he had held it once and still conducted himself under many of the tenets that had guided his education_. "The only thing about leaving I have ever regretted was the disconnection from my family," he admitted, searching her deep blue eyes and a part of him begging for the release of her touch. As he stood there, with her so close, remorse for his rashness stabbed at him sharply.

"I had given up hope of finding a sister I desired to serve. Until now," he revealed stroking her bare neck softly.

The flash in her eyes was something he couldn't define, then she slipped away from him. "You are mistaken. I am not that which you seek," she intoned as she walked out of the room. Rafe followed her as she walked into the large lake cavern.

 

**vi.**

* * *

 

Shepard could feel him stop behind her, too close but not close enough for some dark part of her. Like the first time they met, he loomed over her, never touching her.

"You are bold. Vibrant." He moved around her, maintaining the separation as he stepped into the water. "You think for yourself. You're fearless."

"I assure you I am not what you think I am. I am not what you want." It was a sentiment she'd felt and voiced more times than she wanted to admit. One thing Nyx Shepard knew well was this. Men saw her as something she was not; and she couldn't understand why they didn't see her, why the real Nyx Shepard wasn't ever enough. The man before her really had no idea who he was seeking, but he couldn't even hope to realize his mistake.

He inched closer and she stiffened. "I've been existing for years in a fog, just walking, breathing-aimless. Then with one bold look that haze fled from the fire in your eyes." One hand moved toward her face as if to caress her but she realized he would not again until she permitted it, which made her intent to remain still though her mind played tricks on her-making her skin tingle where he didn't quite touch her.

She knew he didn't want her, not really. He wanted something constructed, she was a facsimile, convincing, but still not real. It was in that same thought that she realized the same was true about him.  _A mercenary with a calling._  His reputation was a construction, all that was left to him when he'd refused to compromise.

Nyx took a step backwards. Rafe lowered his hands, but his eyes still spoke the desire and respect she had felt in his touch, in his kiss. Chastising herself silently she let the officer slip into place. That was the persona that could push everything but the mission aside. Clearing her throat, she weakly said, "Perhaps you should show me those other exits."

He nodded curtly. Shepard took a moment, eying the cracks of sunlight peeking through the ceiling. Nothing in the briefing she'd gotten from Captain Anderson had prepared her for where she was at now. She crouched next to the water, watching the shimmering lights moving through the water. She was pretty sure this was not what the Alliance had in mind when they sent her to Anhur. Now she was practically locked out of New Thebes; it would take a miracle to get back in the temple with the Na'hesit looking for her. And Harel could have been a useful resource, but having left the city, he'd likely be isolated as well. The abolitionists. She needed to find a way to make contact with the rebels, then she remembered Larakka. Perhaps the batarian could make a proper introduction, but Shepard knew she'd have to do more than show up.

Flicking her fingertips in the water she stood and turned. He was leaning in the opening watching her. Nyx eyed him, deciding that cool and detached would have to do the trick. When she neared him, he straightened and held out his hand; she didn't respond so he grasped her wrist loosely and slipped a data cuff on it.

"That way the next time you have to do whatever, you don't have to wait for me to be asleep."

Shepard closed her eyes and shook her head, following him back through the camp and into another path.

 

**vii.**

* * *

 

The impatient tapping of his foot was starting to irritate him. Calev Zingel stood and paced around the small garden. He wasn't sure he'd correctly interpreted the message, and he hadn't caught sight of or heard word on Harel in more than three days. It was the desperation that drove him to this spot. He was going to get someone to tell him where the mercenary was, even if he had to use the batarians' own tricks on them. Then he was going to work that Red Hand bastard over like he had wanted to the first time Rafe started his little game with Caz's best friend.

There was one person in his life he'd always been able to count on and that was Nyx Shepard. From the first time he met her, when she punched out the Admiral's son to come to his defense, she'd always managed to be there if he needed her, even if it was only with just a word of encouragement from half the galaxy away. And he knew she needed him to do the same for her.

When the voices got closer he engaged his stealth shield and pressed himself into a corner. As Rafe stepped into the courtyard, he felt the grin form on his face. The movements were quick, jarring and effective, but before his tech faded, Harel was on his knees and groaning as Caz leaned over him, pistol to his temple.

"You and Dovekie run the same playbook?" Harel grunted with a weak laugh that was replaced with a groan..

Caz yanked an arm behind the mercenary's back, lifting it up a little higher and taking great satisfaction in the vocal demonstration of discomfort. But in that one statement he learned all he needed to know-he'd read the message correctly. "Where is she?"

"In hiding."

" _Where?_ " He knew how far he could go before separating the man's shoulder. Caz pushed just a mite farther.

Rafe winced and his breath was drawn sharply between gritted teeth. "I can't tell you."

"So help me I'll break every bone in your body slowly, and with a smile on my face."

"She said to only give you her comm channel."

Caz loosened his hold on the man. "What?"

Harel's breathing deepened. "The Na'hesit think she's dead. Bombed out transport on the side of the road," he muttered. "She said it's better that way. She's with Larakka."

"Larakka? How?"

Rafe shook his head. "Don't know precisely how. But when I picked up a rebel freq, I led her to it. She went in alone came out a few hours later and told me to kick rocks."

Caz laughed. "Huh."

"Yeah, gave me back the omnitool I'd given her, guess she found the tracker."

"You really are as dumb as you look, aren't you?" Zingel pushed the mercenary to the ground and drew his pistol, again. He was a little surprised that when Harel flipped over he didn't draw his weapon.

"Some days." Rafe's eyes narrowed. "But then I guess neither of us are as smart as we think we are. You're not the guardian I thought you were Caracal."

Caz shrugged at the insinuating tone in the other man's tone. "I've known her my entire life. She's like my sister." It was a shred of truth built into their cover story.

"Guess that could explain it." Rafe leaned forward, rotating his shoulder to loosen it back up. "I was just trying to keep an eye on her. Keep her safe, you know?"

Calev didn't trust Rafe or his motives. The fact that he was aware that the guardian was not sharing the same bed as the priestess he protected, made Caz a little curious. That wasn't a casual conversational topic and it worried him a little more than he would have admitted to.

"Give me the channel." Caz tapped his 'tool live and Rafe did the same. He set the channel and tried it a few times.

When he finally heard her voice he could only smile. Then she sent him a new frequency to use for her, one that no one else had and one that utilized the encryption he'd written for her. After three minutes of one-sided conversation, Caz winked at Harel. "Guess it's your lucky day," the operative announced. He backed toward the door and disappeared into the alley, hacking the door shut behind him.


	5. Superior Tactics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard's removal from the temple in the capitol brings new trials and new challenges as she must once again prove herself. But this time it is a little more trying, she must maintain the guise of a Ra'mahniiti Sister while proving herself as a soldier and tactician.

**New Perspective, A Prologue of First Watch of the Night**

**Chapter 5: Superior Tactics**

**i.**

* * *

 

Shepard knew that the chance of having run into Larakka in the small village of Minya was slim to none. If the batarian woman hadn't been there it was likely that the lieutenant could have been shot, despite the fact that she clearly resembled as sister of the Ra'mahniit and carried the ritual blade of the same. They didn't trust her, and it made her feel a little more justified for having left Rafe sitting in a shady spot a click out.

The group allowed her to stay initially. Despite Larakka's vouching for the woman, Shepard hadn't been initially trusted. She had been allowed to offer blessings and prayers, but they ignored her comments and suggestions about anything martial or strategic. But Nyx knew the drill, just like with anything else, hell, everything else, she had to prove herself.

So she bided her time, she knew it would happen. Larakka leaned in the doorway. "I think you ought to leave it," the batarian commented.

Shepard glanced over at her, as she gripped the blade tightly in her hands. Shaving her head had been a daily ritual at the temple, but she hadn't thought about it in nearly a week and knew that even if she tried she'd likely just turn out looking like some mottled monkey with a skin condition.

Stepping into the room, the batarian studied her; her face impassive. "They think you are lost."

Shepard turned and leaned on the sink, arms crossed over her chest.

"There was an explosion on a highway out of town. They found shreds of red linen. Even the temple mourns your loss," Larakka said.

"Then perhaps we should not question their belief quite so soon," the operative replied.

Larakka smiled. "Very wise, Sister."

Shepard walked out of the utilitarian claustrophobic bathroom and the two women strode out the door into the twilight. The raucousness was not from the sounds of celebration, though in some little ways it was, it was just the evening festivities. The people in this village were merely glad to have made it through another day. It was a sensation the career operator was familiar with. She'd had more than a few of those days in her life as well.

The weapons fire, however, was not part of the ritual, rather than running away, Shepard and the batarian ran toward the crowd, herding children and women toward the house that had been loaned to the priestess.

As she sealed the door, Larakka looked at Shepard. "Go! I will keep you all safe."

"You cannot do this alone." Shepard grabbed the pistol off a man who'd fallen after being shot on the run. "I can handle myself." The pistol was one she knew, lightweight, fast, but not known for stopping power. She knew that with this weapon she'd have to pull from another bag of tricks, her biotics. When she sighted the first man in his desert beige chest piece bearing the large red handprint, Shepard pulled Larakka around the corner of the house. "You watch here. I'm going around back," she whispered, barely audible.

When she watched the men move into the town Shepard had noticed something. They were cocky, thought themselves superior to their opposition, who they didn't see as such. Some of the men had veered off alone, something she would have reamed one of her own men for. But there was one thing these mercenaries were not planning on, and it was creeping through the shadows toward a too-relaxed gunman. Shepard had put the gun away, trading it for the ritual blade that was sharper than it looked. There was no sound, well, a little sound, but only as she pulled him over the fence. She stripped his gear in minutes and left him to his quiet demise.

Once behind the group, she found they were more overconfident than she'd expected. The vehicle was completely unattended. She couldn't help but smile. The explosion surprised them all, as the soldiers all funneled back to the center of the village; the rebels were quicker on the uptake. Shepard knew the best option to contain them was grenades, but by themselves they weren't going to be all that effective. And once they were glowing and blue it wouldn't matter if she threw them or rolled them, they'd get noticed. Going with the quicker is always better approach she quickly pulled the pins on three grenades, swathed them in biotic energy, and tossed them into the confused squad. The series of explosions gave way to gunfire.

The few mercenaries who weren't killed outright in the initial attack scrambled. A pair moved right toward Shepard's position and she brought the first down with a well-placed headshot, the other collapsed before she got to him, clutching a gushing wound that tore through his neck.

Turning and aiming at the person who had made the shot, Shepard relaxed when she saw it was Larakka. "Nice shot."

Larakka smiled. "Going around back, huh?"

"Well," she shrugged. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Let's get the rest of them before they call this in."

In ten minutes the village had been cleared and though Shepard thought everything had gone fine, an angry looking little man stomped up to her. "Are you out of your mind?" Mickles spat. "Now this village is a target."

"It was already a target," Shepard responded.

He moved toward her and poked her shoulder with his finger. "But they didn't come here in force or with numbers."

"No they came here with a purpose." Shepard poked him back. "This village has been a soft target for months, where they could shoot a few rebels and rape a few women. Now it's not." She took a step closer to him and eyed him sharply, something he shrank away from but she couldn't be sure if it was because he still thought her a priest, was intimidated by her, or some combination of the two.

"Your troops move in order to not risk complacency. The same needs to happen with the civilians or the Na'hesit are going to keep walking into little towns like this to take what they want. And not everyone's father has a personal guard," she added, looking at some of the girls sitting near the fire. "They are all your responsibility. My responsibility. Our responsibility."

She hadn't meant to jump on her high horse and it felt a little awkward to try and climb off when she hadn't planned on being there.

"She's right," Larakka growled. "We can't keep waiting for Eclipse. We have to stand up again, before it's too late."

The lecture had refocused from an impudent priest to what some only whispered about, the dependence of the leadership on its own mercenary force, which had yet to turn the tide. The abolitionists were tired; their families were tired and decimated. The land was suffering the effect of poison and death. Anhur was falling around them. Something had to be done.

Shepard stepped away from the argument and strode around the back side of the village and ducked into the little one room shack she'd been offered by a young man who'd lost his wife and unborn child when trying to get them out of New Thebes. After sitting there for a good ten minutes she'd opted to inventory the gear she'd pulled off the man she took down, finding rags and oil she opted to busy herself with something that would clear her mind even if she wasn't sure how anyone who saw her might react.

"I'm impressed," Larakka insisted. "I wasn't sure if Brother Caracal was just whitewashing or if his praise was truthful."

Shepard smiled at the coil she was carefully cleaning. "Well, he does have a tendency to exaggerate."

"He told me you were good with a gun. And I already knew you were good with a knife."

Shepard winced as the other woman allowed her body to drop into the chair.

"What I wasn't sure of was his claims that you were quick on your feet and that you knew how to exploit a weakness if you found it."

Shepard moved on to another piece.

The batarian lifted and inspected the barrel the officer had already cleaned. "And it seems he didn't just mean tactical weaknesses. I for one appreciate your boldness in dressing down the  _captain_ ," the batarian spat the word out of her mouth thick with the contempt she held for him and his poor leadership.

"Yes, well, I've heard it said that one well-placed, well-timed snowflake can cause an avalanche."

The batarian roared. "Avalanche, yes. But you are hardly a snowflake, Sister."

Shepard laughed and had to concentrate in order to reassemble the weapon slowly. With Larakka watching her she was not about to reassemble for time, which had been playing in the back of her mind when she stripped it. When she laid the pistol on the table, the batarian moved to sit beside her and broke down her own sidearm as well, and they took their time cleaning and reassembling the second pistol.

 

**ii.**

* * *

 

After the ambush at Minya, the abolitionists were making a strong push. Towns at the edges of New Thebes were emptying strangely and the Na'hesit were becoming worried. Though Shepard and Larakka worked well together, there were times when two bold warriors were one too many. The familiar chuckle in her ear made Shepard smile as she moved through a dark alley carefully.

"You know, you and that wisp of a batarian are a dangerous pair."

Shepard shook her head as she moved from cover to cover. "Two pissed off females can get some shit done."

"Guess that's one way to put it." He was silent for a moment as she crouched just past the corner. "You're… clear," he said after the patrol moved past.

Caz wasn't crazy about this plan. But he trusted his friend's judgment. And they'd been pushing hard at two other locations in other parts of town for two weeks specifically in hopes that the attention would draw some forces from the building that the abolitionist data suggested was the communication hub of the Na'hesit. Most of the work of this mission was on Caz, Shepard was only there as support and a distraction if the need for it arose.

The opposition on the rooftops was sparse and easily dealt with silently, because he was almost as skilled with a blade as his childhood friend. "I'm here."

"'Bout damn time, I'm starting to feel a little like bait."

"And you make quite striking bait." Calev could almost hear her rolling her eyes at him and the thought made him smile.

"Let's get out of here," he said, announcing completion of the system infiltration just before the explosion lit the sky. "What the fuck?" he gasped watching the nearly black night sky blaze orange in the blast.

"Get out of there, and tap us into their feed. Switching channels," she said breathlessly.

He knew she was running, like he was, though he was moving slower trying to get his hack triggered to give them ears on the Na'hesit as he moved. Once it was up, he then keyed into the feed from the abolitionist teams who were out and about that night so he could try to get a read on the situation.

Shepard's voice rang in his ears and her tone was clear. "He did what?"

"Mickles ordered a team to take down a Na'hesit safe house in grand fashion," Larakka growled on a closed channel that only the three of them had access too.

"Idiot," the lieutenant opined. "He's just going to get people killed. We can't go at them head-to-head."

"I think that's rather what he's hoping," the batarian replied.

The silence spoke volumes. Mickles wasn't the head of the abolitionist force, but he was a leader and had enough pull to get this suicide mission enough support to be launched.

"To hell with him," Calev announced. "I'm not dying tonight. Let's give these guys some support…" He had to struggle not to say her name over the channel.

"Already on it. When did you get so slow…" Apparently he wasn't the only one remembering the time they'd spent on the same squad. The sound of her reloading was punctuated by the weapons fire and explosions around her. "Don't tell me you're getting too old."

"Never, Sister."

"On my way," Larakka offered with a malevolent smile in her voice. "And I'll bring a few of the ladies."

Calev laughed loudly. Larakka had put together and trained a squad of women who were fed up. Some were victims, mothers or friends for Na'hesit victims, they had lost husbands, children, siblings, fathers, or friends to the struggle and they all had one other thing in common. They were not going to lay down and wait for the end to come to them.

"Oh man, these guys have no idea what they are in for," Caz said with a trace of a laugh in his voice.

His laughter mixed with the women's as he crouched on the rooftop and tried to catch up with his friend. He used just the sniper rifle's scope for the first few shots, but then opted to replace the thermal imaging he heard the telltale crack of another high-powered rifle. He swept the buildings and found the shooter-he recognized the young man from the camp at Somut. He also sympathized with the look on the kid's face as he shook his head chambering another round. He'd missed the shot.

Zingel found a target and fired a shot then checked his scope. The kid was searching for him, so he held up his hand, three fingers in the air. Soon the young man's voice was in the operative's ear. "Guardian? What are you doing here?"

"Sounded like you guys could use a little help."

"Praise the Father."

"Just remember breathe. Smooth and certain."

"Yes, Brother."

The two snipers stayed high until their rounds were exhausted. Caz ordered the younger man to stick with Larakka's squad, while the human went in search of his friend. When he found her, Shepard was standing in a doorway peeking out and alternating careful and precise pistol shots with large sweeping gestures that cast powerful fields at the Na'hesit bearing down on her.

When he noticed she wasn't alone in the alcove, Caz was curious. The armor he was wearing was not the secondhand armor that she or any of the other abolitionists wore. It only took him a moment to make the deduction, but by then it was too late. They'd rolled out of the doorway and moved into the smoke.

"What the hell are you doing?" he growled across their private channel.

"The job," she bit back and he knew she'd cut comms.

His frustration was clear as he shimmered out of stealth and bladed a batarian in the gut.  _Goddamnit Shepard, what are you thinking?_

 

**iii.**

* * *

 

Rafe stood at the boarded up window peeking out as Dovekie crossed the room with purpose. "You're bleeding," she stated matter-of-factly, digging through the pack she'd thrown on the counter before clearing the small structure. She moved toward him. "Take off your chest piece."

"I'm fine," he retorted, searching the horizon for signs that they were followed.

"Rafe!" She tugged at his arm and he looked down at her. "Take. Off. Your. Damned. Armor." The tone mixed with the look in her eyes convinced him to comply.

He popped the clasps and dropped the pieces on a nearby table where she was pulling out the supplies she thought she would need. The sound of the zipper of his mesh undersuit drew her attention back to him. "All of it," she stated with a glance at his thigh.

He winced at the realization that she noticed everything, every mistake he'd made in that firefight, every little flaw. He gritted his teeth as the rest of the ceramic joined his upper body armor.

"Sit." She knelt on the old dusty sofa next to him doused the wound on his shoulder, inspecting it. "How are you with stitches?" she asked when she moved from the shoulder to his ribs, then to his back.

"I'm good with whatever."

Dovekie patted him on the shoulder then slid off the couch, bending over the table. He felt his jaw tighten as she applied the medigel to the wounds that she determined didn't need any extra attention. Kneeling on the floor between his legs and leaning toward him, her proximity made his head spin. It was precisely the reason he'd tried to ignore her entreaties.

"Let me see the thigh," she ordered as she shifted to sit on the table. Harel balked. "Oh don't tell me you're shy?"

It wasn't shyness that made him wary it was her. He wanted her and she hadn't given him any sign since that night in the cave. He'd noticed how careful she was when he was around, how controlled and measured. Everything was thought out and precise. Her behavior made him certain that she did feel something for him, but was unwilling to move forward with a man who was considered a fallen guardian.

Looking down at her he noticed the gash in her mesh, he ran his finger over it. "What happened?" he was startled because he hadn't seen it.

"Shrapnel," she said blankly. "I already cleaned it." When he started to turn to inspect the shoulder wound, she grabbed his leg tightly and he had to bite the inside of his cheek in response to the sharp pain but more so at the warmth of her hands on the soft sensitive flesh of his inner thigh. "Be still."

He sat back down, knowing she still needed to stitch the deep gash on his back. But he started unbuckling her pauldron to get a better look at her arm. It was deep, too deep, he knew. Dovekie grabbed his hand when he loosed the first catch of her chest piece.

"If I'm going to sit here uncomplainingly and be your patient, you're damn well going to let me make sure that is taken care of," he advised his eyes moving to her shoulder for a moment then back to her face. Rafe couldn't help the smile when she rolled her eyes at him, but he knew she was going to let him examine it. Her armor joined his and he unzipped the suit enough to just bare the shoulder. She winced when he doused the wound.

"Looks like it should be fine," she insisted, looking at her shoulder.

He turned his head and she was closer than he'd expected, distractingly so. His flesh tingled at the proximity; he wanted nothing more than to close the distance and feel her lips on his again. He couldn't bring himself to be so bold, without some instigation from her. He may not be a guardian, but he refused to wholly turn his back on the man he felt he was.

Tightening his jaw he mumbled, "Mmhmm," before leaning past her to break open a new stitching kit. "Three will likely do it," he opined as he prepared the silk. When she glared at him, he couldn't help but grin.

"You're turn," she replied with a little growl in her voice after he had finished her stitches. As he situated himself sideways on the sofa, he noticed her pull her arms free from the mesh and tie the sleeves around her waist. There were little bruises forming on her collarbone and upper arm, he assumed there were more on her back and probably her ribs.

When she sat behind him she shifted so that the leg toward the back of the sofa rested against him. He tried to not think about it, but even with the bite of the needle there was a part of his brain that could only think about the way her covered body touched his. The gentleness in her hand as it rested on her shoulder, steadying her stitching. She dropped the silk on the table before she bandaged the wound then she leaned forward and set her hand softly on his shoulder. "You should be good now."

Rafe turned toward her before she had the chance to move away. As he leaned toward her, she didn't look away. For a long moment neither moved, neither spoke as their eyes searched one another's. "I know I'm not what you need. I'm a shadow of what I was. But I would … ," he whispered.

Her fingers pressed against his lips. None of the ways she had touched him that night were the touch he was seeking, were the clearance he sought from her. "Don't."

He looked at her like he had a few times before, and when she slipped out from beneath his arm he finally leaned back watching her. She pulled her arms back into the mesh suit as she walked toward the window, opening her omnitool.

"I'll take the watch. You should rest," she told the boarded up window as she checked her assault rifle.

Rafe leaned back and studied her. Sister Dovekie had never been what he expected her to be, it fascinated and beguiled him. What was more, there was something about her that made him feel more like himself than he had in years. Finally he leaned his head against the back of the couch and studied the ceiling, trying to reconcile everything that had and had not happened between them. More than anything he desired her permission to bind himself to her, but she repeatedly rebuffed his advances, even though there were times when he could see the desire behind her eyes.

 

**iv.**

* * *

 

Three hours, she thought as she leaned over him. He'd stared at the back of her head for three hours, then she realized he likely wasn't staring at the back of her head and shook the thought from her brain the instant it cropped up. Shepard set her hand on the pistol on her hip then glanced at her data cuff as she straightened. He'd been grumbling in his sleep for the last few minutes and she expected Rafe would be awake soon. She sat on the edge of the table and rested her elbows on her knees as she studied his features. He was an attractive man with a strong jaw and a distinct brow line. But he looked tired, even asleep he looked drained; she expected part of that was due in part to the loss of himself.

Part of her worried he was trying to find it in her, through her. But she knew it was a futile endeavor, she wasn't what he thought she was, could never be the thing he needed her to be. She rubbed at her forehead with the realization, it was how all her relationships wound up; her walking away because they needed something she wasn't, it was tiring and she wasn't about to jump into another one knowing that was precisely where it would end up.

Somewhere deep down she'd wanted him, not all the things her rational brain knew matched up with the way he made her feel when he looked at her so intensely. Those looks made her wonder if maybe he did see her, even if only a part of the real Nyx. Despite her own desires she couldn't justify giving in to them. She was not Sister Dovekie, and she knew that in a matter of weeks, months, who knows when, but in the end she would leave. And she knew neither of them would be the same after that. She looked down at the data cuff again, her timer ticking down.

There were few people that knew Nyx Shepard. Rafe Harel was definitely not one of them. It was the implied disparity in their realities that prompted the operative's actions before the mercenary awoke. She was studying the short nails of her clasped hands when he stretched and looked up at her.

"Is it my watch?" he asked groggily.

Her eyes met his. "I have to go."

"Not yet." He smiled lazily at her. "Stay with me a while," he replied taking her right hand and kissing the inside of her wrist. "Surely the rebels can spare you for a time."

"It's not the rebels that prompt my departure."

His brow furrowed a moment as she got to her feet. "You really should lock your 'tool," she advised as she set the pack on the table for him. "I sent a burst to your boys. Ricky, I think it was, sent back a quick communiqué that said they could be here in thirty-seven minutes." She straightened and glanced at her cuff. "That was sixteen minutes ago. So I'm cutting it pretty close here."

Rafe looked scandalized, maybe a little hurt. "Why?"

The woman in her hated that she'd hurt him. But the soldier in her knew that the mission came first, even if she was interested in him, he was still an asset. She wasn't sure how to justify the line she wanted to cross, especially to herself, but Shepard had to keep focused. Her tone was cool when she looked him in the eyes and said, "Because I need you in the Na'hesit. I need someone in there willing to work with me. I'm hoping that after I leave I'll still have that."

The statement was calculated to test his claims of loyalty and he responded a little more affirmatively than she'd planned for. Standing, he walked toward her. His movements caused her to look up into his eyes as his lips whispered so near hers she swore she could feel them on hers. The affirmation tickled her lips. "I'll be there for you. But I'm not sure how much longer I'll be a viable resource."

She leaned back slightly taking a step, physically and mentally distancing herself from him-his persistence tried her will. "Do they suspect?"

"No, they question my commitment." He smiled slightly. "Since I refuse to harangue the Sisters or support the moves against the temple, they worry that I am losing my taste for the work. That is why I was part of the attack last night."

Mind racing she opted for light. "And here I just thought I lucked out finally getting the chance to put Paak down." It was a risk sending him back when his people were starting to distance themselves from him. But it was a risk that had to be taken, as long as he was willing to take it. "Are you good with going back?"

Rafe took his own step back. "Yes," he replied opening his eyes finally. "I just wish we had a little more time."

The buzzing caught his attention; Shepard clamped her hand on the data cuff to silence her omnitool's alarm. "I've got to go." She patted him on the shoulder as she passed. Swiping her gauntlets off the counter next to her rifle, she ducked through the kitchen and into the nearly moonless night.

In the distance the dust trail clearly marked the location of his men's approach. Her own retreat was facilitated by a lush oasis whose water supply had been tainted in the conflict. It had been a gathering place for the rebels. The Na'hesit had attacked the village, then poisoned the spring here as punishment to the people of the little herding village that had turned a blind eye to or supported the resistance movement.

Before the caravan got to the town Shepard had slipped into a deep craggy canyon, the trail was thin and treacherous, but she'd used it to move along the edges of New Thebes and the outskirts of the city for months now, she knew it better than she did the layout of Arcturus Station. It took a little extra attention to traverse in the darkness, but with a little care she was at the entrance of the cave system that would take her where she was going.


	6. External & Internal Struggles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caz after becoming aware of the connection between Nyx and Rafe Harel, confronts his friend as she finds herself at the cusp of betrayal. The Na'hesit knowing she is still alive offer up a tempting truce.

**New Perspective, A Prologue of First Watch of the Night**

**Chapter 6: External & Internal Struggles**

  
**i** **.**

* * *

 

Nyx knew Caz would still be pissed. Even if he'd had time to think about it objectively, her best friend would still be angry she was taking the chance of trusting Rafe Harel, even as only an intelligence asset. But she knew that Calev would get it, eventually. She knew him. He was protective of her, even when he was just a skinny kid you could knock out with a strong look. Right now, he was probably irritated at her, Harel, and himself, probably the last most of all. It was her concern for her friend that prompted her destination. Seeing him leaning in the opening of the large iridescent lake cavern, confirmed her instincts.

"What the hell are you doing?" He didn't look at her, just watched the movement in the lake.

Shepard stopped next to him. "I'm running an asset."

"He's fucking in love with you."

"No, not quite."

"Lust. Love. It's all the same in a situation like this," Caz lectured turning his head and looking at her.

"Which is why I keep my distance," Shepard said, keeping her gaze on the water.

Her friend leaned his back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest as he studied her. She didn't flinch under his scrutiny. "Jesus Nyx. Just tell me you haven't slept with him."

Her head snapped to the left, her glare filled with frost and fire. "Do remember who you're talking to?"

"I do." They stared at each other for a long time. "You were always a hopeless romantic."

"Yeah well some things have changed since we were kids, Caz."

Zingel knew it; he knew about all of it. The times early in her career when she'd put herself out there. The civilian who'd just wanted an attractive woman to decorate his life. The weapons instructor who'd wanted Sally Homemaker. The medic after Elysium who'd wanted to worship at the altar of a hero, until he realized the ideal wasn't quite real. And now there was the fallen guardian seeking to serve a pretend priestess.

"You have the most fucked up love life I've ever seen," he chided with a smile.

She punched him playfully in the chest and Caz pulled her into a hug. "You,  _so_ , have no room to talk."

He knew she was right, of course. He was still pining for the first girl he'd fallen in love with. The girl he'd given up for his career path.

"Yeah, but we are both too attached to the 'military thing,'" he said as he looked down at her, a playful question knitting his brow. "That's what the mousy one called it, wasn't it?"

"Yeah," she answered and laid her head back against his chest savoring the acceptance of the person who knew her best in the universe.

Caz knew all her secrets, had seen all the skeletons in her closet, and was always there to help her kick them back into said closet when they got rowdy. When things got crazy he was always there, and even when she skirted the edge of reason, he didn't judge, not really. Even his accusation when she walked in the cave was merely meant to make her think.

"What are you going to do about it?"

She slipped out of his grip. "Nothing to do." She paced a few steps then looked over her shoulder at him, rethinking the thought playing in her brain. "His intel is vital right now."

"So he's just an asset?"

Shepard could tell by the tone he was unconvinced. Calev could read her even when she put up the barriers and didn't want to be read. "That's all he can be, Caz."

He set his hand on her shoulder and she looked up at him. "But that's not all he is, is it?"

"Why are you pushing this?" she asked, exasperated.

She didn't need to be analyzing this. Nyx had it under control; she'd set her boundaries and they both knew that as long as they remained, she'd maintain it. Shepard was nothing if not controlled in her work. Her tactics and her personality could be a little less so, but when it came to the mission she was as precise and controlled as the parameters needed her to be. She adjusted well to different situations and overcame the obstacles that lay before her. And for her the interest of a mercenary trying to find himself was just that, an obstacle that she had to carefully evaluate and traverse on her way through this mission.

And even if it was the best offer she'd had in more than a year; she was not about to take a chance with hers or anyone else's life. Deep down a part of her knew that's precisely what a distraction like this could cost. She'd seen it with her own eyes.

Caz had been quiet a long time. "You doing all right?" she asked finally.

He nodded his head, trying and failing to convince them both that nothing was wrong. "I've just been struggling, you know."

"Oh, so you heard?" Shepard stuffed her hands in her pockets.

"Yeah," he sighed. "But this isn't the time or the place."

Her hand on his shoulder drew his eyes back to hers. "If it's got your head all jumbled it  _is_  the right time and place."

"I'm clear. I swear. We can talk about when we're out of this mess."

"All right. I'll back off, for now," Shepard conceded.

The woman he'd loved almost his entire life was getting married in a few months. Nyx was supposed to be there, though that was looking sketchy. But Shepard knew that Caz still loved her. He'd never signed up for deep cover; it sort of fell on him. He was just staging as a buyer for some data and the connection was too good for Alliance Intelligence to not push him deeper and deeper. That assignment had been what broke off his relationship with Lin Apraxin; hell, he'd had to walk away from his entire life for nearly three years and when he came back there was one thing left-his best friend, Shepard.

Nyx felt a little bit responsible for her friend's distraction; she'd been the reason Lin and Dave met. Dave Jensen worked with Shepard, he was part of her team. Lin was a good friend that always lent out her spare room for the short stints the officer spent in port. They'd met when Lin and Shepard and another friend from boot, Gaby, went out for a girls' night and ran into some of her crew. Dave and Lin hit it off and after two years they were finally going to put down roots. Jensen wasn't leaving the teams, but he and Lin had found a way to deal with the long absences in a way that worked for them both. And Nyx was happy for them-a little jealous some days-but then she knew she wasn't the only one who knew the couple that felt a little green with envy.

The two of them sat quietly in the dark, trying not to think about all the things that seemed to come to the surface with his admission. Shepard could admit that as much as she wanted her career, there were rare moments when she thought she might want a life too. She didn't even have an apartment-she'd had one once, but realized once when she started tracking it that in a year she'd spent less than twenty days there. And sometimes those "days" were mere hours, enough time to shower, change, and load back out. She realized when she couldn't remember her apartment number and had to ask Lin for it, that there was something off.

That night when she walked into the place she realized that it was little more than a place she stored the things that she couldn't take with her. The only touch of personalization was the collection of models she and her father had built and a handful of photos-her parents, some of family, a few of her various teams, and one from right before she, Lin, and Caz had enlisted. When she'd packed up the apartment her whole life fit into two crates, and that was mainly packing material for the models, and four garment bags that held her various dress uniforms that were hardly ever worn. The everyday things were split between her foot locker and a half-full duffle bag.

Shepard shook her head. It wasn't much better now she knew, except she had cut the expense of the apartment in lieu of a storage unit. As she tucked her hand into the pocket on her thigh and pulled out a ration bar, she chuckled to herself. It was even the same here. She was still a nomad-her life carried on her person. And even though Caz's life took much the same bent, it wasn't very much comfort.

 

**ii.**

* * *

 

The next morning the two were awakened by the sound of fast approaching footsteps. The young sniper Calev had conversed with across the rooftops the night before stumbled into the cavern, immediately backing against the wall when he saw the two weapons trained on him. "Akar? You know better than this."

"Apologies, Guardian. But the sister," he bowed slightly in her direction, "she is required in Dakhla." The boy looked at the man who had helped him hone his natural affinity for the long-ranged rifle. "You should probably come to."

The look in the boy's eyes prompted the two operators to share a quick glance. They fell into a run behind the winded boy. The climb to the plateau where the town rested was the longest part of their journey. Shepard never took the main paths, instead finding and preferring to use the more treacherous and precarious routes to avoid accidental discovery. As that day, her tactic usually paid off. She led the three of them to the town, Zingel was helping Akar who was on the verge of exhaustion.

When she got near the building the boy had indicated, she'd motioned for them to stop. "We must give them the sister. There is no other way. With the Eclipse decimated, we cannot stand against them."

"Have you lost your mind?" That voice Shepard knew, Larakka. "Even if it didn't go against everything we stood for, the gods would certainly punish us for giving one of his speakers to the Na'hesit. But to even consider delivering the Saif. That is blasphemy. Worse. That is throwing away the gift of the Great Father."

She heard the ringing of the beaded curtain as the decorative covering so common to residences in the desert areas fell back against itself. Caz had left Akar under a nearby tree and joined her beneath the window.

Another man, lower voice, older. "Besides there is no guarantee that they will keep their word even if we give her over. Gharnek is not a man known for his word."

The debate continued as Shepard stared out at the desert for a few minutes, then ran her fingers through the scrubby length of her hair. When she looked at her friend he was shaking his head vehemently mouthing the words, "No! Not a chance!" She moved well away from the window before she stood. Calev was quick on her heels. She rounded the corner and he grabbed her by the arm and pressed her against the wall, leaning his mouth to his ear. "This is definitely against mission specs Nyx."

She slipped her hand onto the back of his neck and tilted her head to whisper in his ear. "I have no intention of being handed over."

He leaned back slightly. There was no relief in his eyes. "I know what you're planning, and I'll drag your ass off this dirtball myself before I let you do it."

Grabbing his neck much less delicately she set her lips close enough to his ear that he could almost feel the growl in her voice. "I'm not  _asking_  you to  _let_  me do anything. If I plan this out right I can lure that bastard into your crosshairs. Think. There is enough dissention in the ranks that if we take out two or three key targets, we can fragment the group irreparably." She let go of him and let him lean back. "You damn well know I'm right. This isn't like trying to topple the Hierarchy. These guys could be easily scattered to the winds. With the right plan."

"Goddamnit," he swore knowing she was right. "Well you know me. I'm in. I've got your back."

She could tell by the tightness of his brow that he wasn't comfortable with the idea of her essentially using herself as bait. But she knew that if she planned it right she could at least stem the gushing from the wound the slavery group had dealt the abolitionists.

Before they got to the door someone had knocked on an open casement and warned the inhabitants of the building that the person they were discussing was approaching. Shepard scanned the eyes and faces of the men and women in the room. No one had spoken before Larakka burst through the door. She stood next to the sister, her anger clear in her eyes and the tension in her body. The batarian's hand resting on her pistol was a casual and not so casual sign of her irritation and intent. It was she that spoke first, "Well, Marrst," she said, glaring at a large batarian in the corner. "Do tell Sister Dovekie why you've asked her here?"

He glared back, baring his teeth at the female he'd been betrothed to several months before the fighting broke out. Marrst bowed his head slightly to the holy woman who bore little resemblance to the identity she'd taken as a cover, all that remained of the priestess was the dagger strapped to her right thigh.

"My apologies for my fellow's irritation. But she, like the rest of us, is concerned over the loss of the Eclipse force that had been gathering on Nieth," Marrst divulged.

"What happened?" the petite blonde human asked removing the gauntlets she'd been wearing before tucking them into a pocket on her thigh. Several of the occupants of the room including Marrst stared at her bare hands as she clasped them carefully in front of her. The stance she'd chosen was just as calculated as the removal of the gloves-she wanted them to see her as what they thought she was. The demure stance was made more powerful by the armored guardian at her right shoulder.

Marrst swallowed hard. "A Na'hesit strike devastated the staging point just as their ships were returning to retrieve the last of the men that would be landing. They were sitting ducks and ripe for the picking."

"If you had not ordered them to take both ships back and prepare the ambush early, this would not have happened," Larakka accused.

The male snarled at her. "They were ripping us to shreds in New Thebes."

"It was an ambush. Of course they were. That was the plan. We only got out because the other teams came in to assist. And I dare say without the sister and her guardian, even the few that got out wouldn't have." She leaned toward him pleadingly. "We will lose too much if you do this. Can you not see that?"

"There is no other choice. We have to concede," Marrst replied with resignation

Nyx was studying the electronic diagram being beamed above the table in the living room. She moved a piece of the display and set it off on its own. "A pawn can be a powerful thing," she intoned and all eyes turned to the petite human. "After all these months, you still question me?"

"She  _is_  the Saif, Marrst. No matter how sacrilegious you have become you can't deny that after all you've seen," Larakka said.

He set his eyes hotly on Larakka. "I have seen a capable warrior and a talented tactician. I have not seen the Father's Saif."

"Look again," Caz responded, taking a step forward.

"You could bow to their whims and hand me over. Or you could make them come out of their tower and get me," Shepard said looking up at the batarian leader through her long eyelashes. Other pieces started joining the pawn on the playing board, but all at the outskirts, the edges. "Lure them out to claim their prize. Do not let them know where they are going until they reach the destination. Prepare the field." Marrst narrowed his eyes and took a step toward the human. "Was it not you that told me the Na'hesit lacked true leadership? That they too closely resemble a hydra? Cut off a few heads and the body will flail and begin to tear itself apart."

He smiled disturbingly, but said nothing. He offered a little nod.

"Sister!" Larakka thundered. "You cannot think to give yourself over to them."

"Indeed I do not. I am merely the most striking bait currently available."

The batarian woman looked shocked and disturbed.

"How much of this have you planned?" Marrst asked.

"Enough to know that it must happen here. There are only two paths up. The back is little known and too treacherous for more than one or two men to try to traverse. So we can guarantee their method of ingress and block their egress quite nicely," Shepard detailed.

"Radio signals are often difficult to maintain up here, so that will mean that any jamming might not be readily noticed," Caz advised, "especially if we keep the jamming intermittent until we spring the trap. That way they aren't immediately aware."

The smile that crept across the batarian's lips was one that Shepard could sympathize with. He felt like this might indeed offer a chance to end the fighting they were all exhausted from.

"And we've already prepared this place, we can hide a great deal of men from their scans." Larakka moved toward the table, offering her own take on things.

"Get out!" Marrst called to the gaggle that was watching them. The four of them along with the old man who had stood the middle ground joined them; the older man, Keith Johnston, had married Marrst's mother and raised the batarian as his own, and neither would claim they were anything other than father and son, despite their obvious lack of biology.

 

**iii.**

* * *

 

Pacing was not calming the mercenary, though it rarely did. Of late his calm could only be found in one thing. He shook his head angrily at himself. It had been his fault that her presence was known. If he had not helped her she would not have been in New Thebes that night-none would have seen her. Her continued existence would have gone unnoticed.

"So stupid," he muttered quietly as his steps traced the edge of the iridescent waters of the cave. "And then you are so foolish as to call her here." Rafe knelt at the edge of the water and watched a line of light wiggle beneath the surface.

"Why did you call me by the way?"

He spun quickly, standing. She had not revealed herself and he silently chastised himself for not having heard her. What made it worse was that she seemed to notice it.

"Be sure. I can move with great care when I wish it," Dovekie declared. She raised an eyebrow at him as she leaned in the opening, studying one of her gauntlets in the pale light. "Now, why did you contact me so overtly?"

Rafe considered his approach for a moment and settled on direct. "You cannot do this thing."

She smiled, but not the usual warm welcoming smile that made his heart race. This one held a darkness he had seen traces of from time to time-he'd seen it the night of the ambush, when she'd nearly killed him. He had been wearing a helmet that concealed nearly all of his features, for good reason, but it also obscured his identity from her. It was only by luck, and her being prepared enough to have their comm channel keyed, that he still lived.

"Gharnek does not care if he must come to the abolitionists. He seeks your blood, wishes to douse himself in it and proclaim himself divinely anointed."

The laugh escaped her before she could stop it. "I'm sorry. You can't be serious."

"The belief that you are the weapon of the gods, has spread too far. With the whispers that your spirit guided the abolitionist movement, he was irritated. But with the revelation that you are alive, he's mad and desirous to steal your power in a way that he feels the people will flock to."

"And bathing in my blood is how he intends to win over the people?"

Rafe shook his head as he crossed toward her. "He only needs them to fear him. And coming out of that meeting wearing your blood would create a great amount of fear."

She tilted her head to the left. "And outrage."

"Indeed, but ire cools. Even faster in the icy grip of fear. Hope would be lost. The people would succumb. Believing nothing remained to free them. Your death would mean the loss of so much more than one sister." Harel loomed over her, looking down into her eyes. "You have become a symbol." When she tried to retreat, he planted his hand against the stone wall, stilling her movement. "I know you are not comfortable with it. But the fact remains."

"The fact also remains that Gharnek must fall and I am the only one he will meet on the field."

"I beg you. As a friend. As one that holds you in great esteem. Please."

Dovekie looked up at him defiantly. "You would have me abandon these people to save myself."

"It is not just you who would be saved." His heart ached and he could feel his throat tightening. "You must survive." His eyes searched hers. "For Anhur. For Larakka and the rest of the rebels. For me. Please."

 

**iv.**

* * *

 

Shepard looked up into the green eyes that dimmed slightly with the sorrow she saw there. His voice tore through her with the one word. "Please." That one little word, so heavy with emotion, regret, dread. That one word, revealing more than he'd ever put into words. A part of her wished she could relieve his pain, or at least comfort him, but it could not be. She would not place herself above the others fighting, and she was resolved to this plan.

It was the first time she regretted their association. Even in this Nyx could not be the woman he needed. He wanted her to be selfish in that instant, one who could consider his sorrow and his pain before making a decision of such magnitude. But she had never been that woman, and she couldn't see being able to respect herself if she ever became that.

"You cannot do as he wishes," Rafe whispered, resting his forehead against hers.

Her gloved hand touched his face-she had left them on intentionally. "I understand and appreciate your concern."

Rafe closed his eyes and moved away from her quickly, his struggle evident in every fiber of him. "Damnit Dovekie!" He pressed his palms against the cool stone, willing it to quench the fire that singed his control.

"You told me once that you were drawn to me. Why?" she asked, taking measured steps along the bank.

He laughed lightly with the memory. "Defiance, from the first glance. Even in that moment I knew you," he said as he turned and rested his back against the wall, watching her. "Your resolve and selflessness showed themselves later."

Sapphire eyes pierced him as she stopped and faced him. "All the things that you are asking me not to be, right here, right now."

Rafe pressed his head back against the sandy stone. She could see him processing it; she knew he would see it her way, eventually. What happened next, she hadn't expected. As he knelt before her, with his arms wrapped around her waist she looked down at him with shock surely painting her features. He pressed his face to her body. Held her tightly about the hips, whispering something inaudible against the cotton shirt she wore.

Initially she was afraid to touch him at all, but a few phrases broken by rare sobs, told her he was blessing her. It was not the way a guardian would usually bless a sister, but they were neither. Eventually she pulled off one gauntlet and set her bare hand on his head, then joined his recitation. This broke him. His grip loosened and the sobs became more frequent. Rafe sank slightly and Nyx knelt with him, which prompted him to look up at her.

"I prayed for years before I left to serve a sister half as worthy as you. If I had met you, I would have begged you daily just to allow me to gaze upon your unhooded face. To look into your eyes, even if it was not my right."

"Rafe." She meant it to be scolding, but it did not come out that way.

"I would have performed every task you desired, just to prove myself worthy to share your presence, let alone your life," Rafe continued.

Shepard leaned away, realizing that he was travelling down a path she could not join him on.

He caught her before she could extract herself. The kiss was a mix of things she hadn't expected, but all were paled by the desperation and fear. "Allow me," he whispered before meeting her lips again. "Allow me to stand at your side." Another deep lingering kiss muddled her brain with its intensity. "Let me gain my penance through you."

With that the soldier scrambled to her feet, holding her fingers to her lips. "I am not the means of your penance. You are. The people need strength of faith and battle prowess. You possess both."

She was breathless and torn. She remembered another kiss like that, him begging her to love him, and she knew the pain she felt now, knowing she couldn't-not as that type of devotion deserved. "Your choices will free you from this lost state. Not me," Shepard maintained as she crossed toward one of the exits that would lead her into the caverns. "Great Father keep you in his gaze and guide you through your trials."

She saw his shoulders slump as she slipped into the tunnel. Caz set his hand on her shoulder; she responded with a quick nod. The two moved quietly through the cavern for a few minutes before they set off at a run. The sound of her own breathing helped to clear some of the haze from her brain but nothing could remove the look in his eyes-the look of overwhelming certainty when he asked her to allow him to serve as her guardian.

Shepard also knew that the request was more than a request to protect her. He wanted the relationship he'd been raised to expect from a Ra'mahniiti Sister, which she could not offer. The soldier pushed herself; they had to beat sunrise, and she had to outrun the memory of that night. The Na'hesit had begun patrolling the outskirts more heavily and neither wished to be discovered.


	7. Coming to Terms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nyx approaches the leader of the Na'hesit, Gharnek, more fully embracing her persona as one of the Ra'mahniit.

**New Perspective, A Prologue of First Watch of the Night**

**Chapter 7: Coming to Terms**

  
**i** **.**

* * *

 

Tension was thick. Even though there was a plan in place everyone was still concerned-Calev most of all. He and Akar were posted in positions lower than he'd like, because it was the only way to keep them concealed. Larakka and Marrst were with Shepard, and though he knew Larakka would protect his relatively unarmed friend Caz didn't hold out the same opinion of the batarian male that was the face of the abolitionist force. He chewed on the inside of this cheek as the afternoon seemed to drag on. The plan included the Na'hesit convoy of four vehicles making multiple stops, at each location they would be given new coordinates, and sometimes en route locations would be changed.

It was two-fold. Engineers were gathering signal information so that once the players reached the meeting point, they could continue to burst and respond and also bounce the vehicle tracker signals as still moving. Or at least that was the plan. They all knew that even if it worked they'd maybe have ten minutes before all hell would pop up on that plateau in Dakhla, but it was a hell they were prepared for. The main response would come from a small group, but if and when the response came, there were men, mechs, and rockets waiting in the tunnels beneath the town.

Shepard stayed true to her cover. She donned the garb and took up a position in the most well-fortified building in the complex. Caz knew the shot he'd have to take. He just hoped he'd get the chance. He pressed the back of his head against the wall and just tried to concentrate on his breathing, slow and steady. His heart felt calm when he heard the two clicks in his ear.  _I_ _ncoming._ He did not move, none of them would move until a prescribed time after the last hatch on the vehicles closed again.

 

**ii.**

* * *

 

Her hood was not pulled forward as it should have been, Shepard needed to be able to see. It was vital. The first face she saw gave her pause. Harel looked at her coolly as he stepped into the room, he quickly took a step to the right and a large batarian took a step to the left. Then Gharnek entered, bookended as he was he looked even smaller than she'd imagined. He was about six-foot and he wasn't small, but next to the other two men, he was dwarfed.

The batarian eyed Marrst and then Larakka; a little smile crossed his lips as he examined her. Then his turned his gaze on the Sister. "Well, well. This is the Great Saif of the Father?" He grinned and roared with laughter. "This little thing." With a motion of his head toward Rafe, he said, "Relieve her of the blade and search her."

"Yes, sir," Rafe said in a menacing tone. Once his fellows were behind him Shepard saw the flash in his eyes and for a moment felt relief, then thought better of it. She had abandoned him, refused him; she had no guarantee that his loyalty remained. His presence here could be taken any number of ways. He reached for the athame at her waist and her hands went to her sash.

"I will see it returned to its proper place," he advised holding up his hand to the jumpy men behind him.

Shepard untied the item and held it out to him.

"And she so easily gives up her one weapon." Gharnek was overly amused. Too much so Shepard knew. She had been expecting more concern. "Search her," he ordered again.

"By your leave?"

"Oh, grow a quad Harel. The priest holds no power." He shook his head and grumbled to his second, "Should have never brought the superstitious bastard."

Shepard's nod prompted Rafe's search. He stepped behind her and swept his hands over her shoulders, down her arms, then her back, hips, and the outside of her legs. He crouched beside her and tucked his hands beneath her skirt moving his hands up one leg then down the other. When he stood in front of her again she could tell he was disturbed by the fact that he'd found no other weapon. And when he ran his hands around her waist, she felt his hand stop for a moment.

"She's clean," he stated, blocking her from Gharnek's clear view.

The Na'hesit leader's smile widened as he crossed the room. He moved cautiously, waving his hands at Marrst and Larakka both hesitantly took steps back. Gharnek circled Shepard, eying her. He had nearly a foot on her in height and at least eighty pounds. In this meeting the operative didn't respond as she had with other Na'hesit; her fire was quelled, her defiance muted. She wanted him to underestimate her. She needed him to underestimate her-then and only then could she strike.

"I'm more afraid of the woman at her side than I am this waif of a saif," he chuckled quite pleased at his own wit. He stopped to her right, just out of reach. "How can these people think this scrawny pyjak their savior?" He moved toward her, stopping in front of her. "What say you little one? Are you the mighty saif? Should I end you? Or shall I take you as a trophy?"

Her eyes finally met his. "I think …," she began lowly. He leaned a little closer, and she hoped the movement would go relatively unseen by the way he'd placed himself between her and his men. "I think that you are foolish to think that I would be willing to be anyone's trophy."

His head fell back in roaring laughter, when he turned toward his second. "She has spirit. I'll give her…" He gasped sharply. Gharnek turned back to the sister, grabbing her shoulder with a questioning look in her eyes. She pushed the blade a little deeper; it was not her athame that pierced his flesh, but the dagger of a guardian, a fallen guardian. Rafe's hands had paused to tuck the blade in her sash; then he had stationed himself in a manner that allowed her to conceal it.

"How?" Gharnek sputtered.

Her eyes moved to her left, where Rafe knelt behind a thin pillar firing at the few men who had been allowed to enter the building.

"You underestimated the superstitious one and his commitment to the way he was raised. You underestimated the lengths these people would go to, and the risks any of us would be willing to take. You did not look at the big picture. You were content with what was right in front of you."

"But you are a priest. Yours is to respect life," he coughed.

She nodded at him as the gunfire subsided. Larakka touched her shoulder lightly and looked in the face of the man Shepard was lying down on the ground.

"Today few will give up their lives so that many others will survive. Father, will you allow the Sister to bless you for your journey? Or will you remain stubborn?" Larakka asked calmly, fearing the answer.

Everyone in the room except Marrst was surprised by the revelation. "My daughter died years ago," he spat, blood staining his lips.

"As you wish, Gharnek," the batarian female replied and removed the athame from his side, allowing the blood to flow much more quickly. "Then you may meet her in the Underworld where you both shall burn and fall into memory. Larakka cleaned the ritual blade with her scarf which she dropped on the ground, then snatched the sheathe from Rafe who was being held at gunpoint by Marrst and two other men who had joined them. Shepard took the guardian's blade and her own when it was offered.

"What do we do with the traitor?"Larakka queried.

The sister quickly stripped the garb off; it, in combination with the thin armor she'd been wearing were stifling in combination. "Leave him."

"What?" Marrst barked.

The sister looked from one batarian to the next. "How do you think I knew when raids were coming? How do you think I found the locations of the communications towers and had the descrambling codes?" They looked surprised. "His father is the Captain of the Guardians."

"It is as she says," Caz attested from the doorway. "He has been a loyal friend, and risked his life to remain with the Na'hesit while helping Dovekie and all of you."

"We have no time to argue," Shepard noted.

"Strip," Marrst ordered. "And no weapons." The leader looked over at the priest. "If he comes, it's by my rules."

Shepard nodded. "But know he is under my protection. Brother Caracal," she added, looking at the rebel leader sharply before turning her gaze on her friend. Caz nodded his agreement. Rafe complied and when they were leaving, she leaned toward him and whispered, "Do try to look like a prisoner."

Rafe bit back a grin and laced his hands behind his head. The fighters could be seen in the distance, which hastened their retreat. The cavern systems in this section of the mountains was extensive and the natural metal deposits played havoc with scanning systems, a problem which was compounded by the multiple devices that lined the caves and the terrain above.

 

**iii.**

* * *

 

Rafe leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees staring up at Brother Caracal. The arguing from the other room was muffled. The other man did nothing more than meet the prisoner's gaze. "I think Marrst is trying to convince her just to kill me."

"She won't let that happen."

He looked down at his hands. "I hope you're right." He didn't say anything else. "How long have you known?"

"Not nearly long enough," the other man replied.

Harel looked back up at the guardian. "Then she told you?" the mercenary asked. A nod. "She told me you two were close; known each other almost your whole lives," Rafe added.

"Almost."

"Then how are you not bound?" Rafe asked with a look of pure confusion in his eyes. "I know at least a dozen guardians that would beg her consideration. Hell, I have."

Caracal took a deep breath and crossed the room bringing a chair with him. "Dovekie is… I'm not even sure I can define it. But she is indescribable. Just when you think you've got her figured out, you realize you were completely wrong."

Rafe nodded and smiled, familiar with that facet of the woman.

"In relationships, people expect things. And when someone is so adaptable, so able to change direction, they cannot be boxed in by expectation. She cannot be loved as a guardian knows how to love her, because we are confined by our calling, but that sister is confined by nothing," Caz stated more truthfully than either of them really knew.

"And she is keenly aware of her nature."

The brother nodded slowly at the man. "Thus she keeps herself distanced."

"I fear I may have lost my heart to her," Rafe admitted, staring at the door.

"It is nothing to fear. It has happened to many before and there will likely be more who will suffer from that ailment." The two men laughed heartily at the idea. "The heartache will not last long."

"I do not know that I agree with that. But I think I may try to return to the temple," Rafe offered after a long silence.

"That would be welcome, I think."

"Will she return?"

Brother Caracal shook his head. "No, I do not believe she will."

"And you will remain with her?" Rafe asked with concern etching his voice and constricting his chest.

The guardian met his gaze. "She and I have watched over one another since we were children. It is only fitting," he noted carefully.

A deep sigh relieved some of his concern as he leaned back in the chair. "I'm glad. It is good that someone will be there to watch over her. Try to keep her from such plans in the future."

Caracal laughed brightly. "I will do my best, but even this one was done with my disapproval."

"I have no doubt." Rafe offered his hand to the guardian. "Take care of her as best you can." The two nodded as they shook hands.

Shepard and Larakka stood in the doorway, watching the two men who both stood quickly. "Leave them alone for a few minutes and they become friends," the batarian female observed.

"Rafe Harel is not a bad man. He was merely struggling to find his own path in life," the sister remarked. "A battle many of us fight from time to time."

"But I think I have regained some direction, Sister." Harel tried to look at her calmly. But knowing she would not remain, that he would lose her physically as he had already lost her consideration. "Thank you for-"

Shepard held up her hand. "I did not do this. You did."

He walked over to her and touched her cheek softly, taking the privilege of a guardian. "You have given me back something I thought lost forever. And though it may not have been your goal or your purpose, you played a vital part and for that I can never thank you as you deserve."

He could see her discomfort in her eyes. The praise made her squirm under his touch. "I just hope that you find what you are looking for Rafe."

Knowing it would likely be the last time he saw her, Rafe kissed her gently, ignoring Larakka's gasp of surprise. He tried to pour everything he could not say into that one gesture, tried to make her understand what she had become for him. "May the Great Father watch over you and your guardian in your travels."

"Thank you. And may the gods guide your path and fuel your strength. Both of you," Shepard replied as she touched Larakka's face.

 

**iv.**

* * *

 

Marrst and the abolitionist leaders had been convinced to let Rafe return to the Nebu Xa'Afeef where the mother, elder sisters, and the guardian captain allowed him to return to the fold, though he would have to undergo his trials of guardianship again. Larakka turned to the temple as well, taking up the robes of a sister eventually. The situation on Anhur remained troubled for six months after the Alliance operatives were smuggled out of the system, but that was not unexpected.

Caz and Shepard remained among the rebels for a month after beheading the Na'hesit, gradually pulling back from the planning and action, as was their purpose. They had been sent to assist, never to take over. As the people retook the cities, claiming their own governance and leadership, taking back their home-at which point it was clear that the two covert operatives could return to their own lives.

It was rare that Calev returned to Alliance space. In the past his missions usually bled into one another. The two of them were being smuggled back to Citadel space via a long string of freighters and convoys. On one small ship the two found themselves hiding out atop a stack of crates in an abandoned cargo bay.

"This reminds me of when we were kids," Zingel whispered with a big grin as he chewed on a straw.

"Yeah, all that's missing it Admiral Lindstrom's son being a colossal prick."

"Well he had to compensate somehow."

Shepard howled with laughter, leaning against her friend's shoulder.

"Hey Nyxy, do you ever think about what it might have been like if we hadn't grown up like soldiers in miniature?"

"Missing Lin?" she asked, looking up at him.

"Not missing, so much as envying the hell out of Dave." Caz looked at his hands and shook his head. "He's a good man right?" he asked, looking down at his friend. She nodded. "I know he's a good soldier. I've read his service record, and to work with you he's got to be stellar in the field. But will he take care of her?"

Shepard sat up and faced her friend. "I've known him for eight years. And next to you and Lin, he probably knows me best. When he met Lin, something shifted. He loves her. The way he puts it-before he just did the job, completed the mission. Now he has something to fight for."

Her heart broke for her friend; Shepard knew Caz still loved Lin, but he'd let go when his life veered off course and into his existence as a deep cover operative. It had been accidental. He had taken a post as an intelligence analyst. And one little staged information buy pulled him out of his life, destroying the things he coveted most. Shepard knew that feeling, but she'd freely chosen the path that kept her sequestered in her well-worn armor.

"I still love her, Nyx." His eyes were rimmed and glistening with tears. Neither of them did this; the emotional thing, the regretful thing. They were the strong ones. The ones everyone else turned to. "I hate that she's marrying someone else, but I'm glad that she's found what I can't give her. What I wanted to give her."

"Caz," Shepard breathed, taking his hand. "Leave. Retire. You've done your bid. Just don't re-up. You can find that too, if it's what you want."

He shook his head, looking at their clasped hands. "Not with the woman I want. No one will ever match up to her." Calev looked up at her and tugged at her hand. She knew the sign and tucked up next to him, shoulder to shoulder, leaning against the crates and staring at the ceiling. "Do you ever think about it?"

"What?"

"Retiring? Family? A home, kids? Like when we were little? Having a place to return to, people that are always there for you?"

She grimaced; part of her was surprised that he remembered those conversations when they would whisper the things they wanted to be and do when they grew up. But the pragmatist couldn't be shocked that her best friend's memory was that sharp. There were times she wanted something more than just the next mission. But she hadn't found anyone that inspired ideas of what that other life could be.

"Not in a very long time," Shepard admitted. The sour feeling in the back of her tightening throat reminded her of those things that she'd chosen to forget. "I don't know."

"You could retire," he quipped with a playful smile in his voice.

Her fist connected just below his ribs and set them both to giggling. "Yeah, whatever." Her tone turned serious for a moment. "Neither of us is meant to retire. We are marines. Like you said when we were younger, we were born for this. And we do have people who are always there for us, even if they aren't  _right_  there." Nyx laid her head on his shoulder.

"I know." He held her close and leaned his cheek against the top of her head. "I just … sometimes …"

"Me too."

 

_**THE END** _


End file.
